Exiles
by The Winter Jay
Summary: Loki of Asgard and Elsa of Arendelle, both born with power over ice. Both taught from a young age to suppress these powers. Had they been allowed to see one another, great tragedies could have been avoided in both their lives. After both are exiled, a chance encounter makes them rethink everything they felt sure they knew. [I do not claim ownership over these characters or worlds.]
1. Chapter 1

Odin, King of Asgard, was pacing before his golden throne, his footfalls echoing throughout the enormity of the throne room. He turned abruptly at the sound of the doors opening. His wife, Frigga, entered gracefully and gave a shallow curtsy before the Allfather.

"You sent for me, Your Grace."

"Frigga, something troubling is occurring on Midgard."

A look of puzzlement crossed Frigga's face. "But there has been peace on Midgard for centuries. We have protected the mortals in every way possible."

"You remember Princess Elsa?"

Frigga's face fell. Elsa, the daughter of the king and queen of Arendelle, born with the power to control ice. They had visited her on the day of her birth. Her powers had been evident even then. Odin had warned the king and queen to be wary of her gifts, that they would pose a great threat to their kingdom if left unchecked. The king had sworn that she would learn to control it, and the Asgardians had not questioned his judgement. They had been forced to visit Arendelle again, however, after Elsa's younger sister, Anna, had narrowly avoided death after an accident with Elsa's powers. Once again, Odin had had to remind the king of the dangers posed by his daughter's abilities. The Allfather had been almost beside himself with rage; he had sacrificed too much protecting the integrity of this realm against the frost giants to let one mortal endanger its people. He had threatened to intervene and "deal with the girl" himself - and most likely would have, too, such was his anger - but Frigga convinced him otherwise. She made him see the girl for what she truly was. Gentle, benevolent, and most importantly, frightened.

"It is her fear that worries me, Frigga," Odin had said. "It will consume her."

"She will learn to overcome it," his wife had replied gently. "What would you do, in the king's situation, if it were Thor or Loki in question?"

Odin ground his teeth together in frustration; he could see that his wife was right. "I would have faith in them, and trust that they were stronger than their abilities," he admitted.

Frigga smiled. "Precisely."

"You are too wise for your own good," Odin sighed.

"And not wise enough for yours," she replied lovingly.

So, the Asgardians had returned home again, though this time with the promise that if anything of this nature happened again, immediate action would have to be taken.

Determined to protect both their people and their daughters, the king and queen of Arendelle shut the palace gates and kept Elsa separated from her sister. Over the years Elsa's powers grew, and, terrified of bringing harm to those she loved, she became more and more withdrawn. Her father had always told her, "conceal it, don't feel it". And that was exactly what Elsa did.

She seemed to have bridled her abilities to some extent, until her parents were killed on a sea voyage the previous week. With no one to act as an intermediary between herself and the outside world, Elsa became completely cut off, her emotions raging within her like an icy storm, unable to see even her sister, the one person who could have brought her solace in such dark times.

"Frigga?" Odin said softly.

Frigga, who had been so deep in thought that realising she was still in the throne room was quite a shock, blinked and looked at her husband, her eyes giving away the dread she felt for Elsa. "Yes, of course I remember her. How could I forget?"

Odin climbed the dais steps and sunk into his throne with a heavy sigh. "How, indeed?" He paused before continuing. "Her parents are dead."

His wife gasped, understanding immediately the effect this will have had on the princess. "Killed at sea," Odin continued. "I have been keeping an eye on her, and I must say, until her parents' death I saw hope for her, despite the growing strength of her abilities. But she has strayed from that path. I have tried to remember what you said to me on the day of out last visit there, but I truly fear for the safety of the people who are to one day call her their queen."

Frigga was obviously affected by this news. She rushed up the steps and knelt at her husband's feet, her orange robes pooling around her like liquid fire. "You cannot harm her. She is innocent, Odin!"

"But for how much longer, Frigga? Are you willing to risk the fate of an entire kingdom for the sake of one mortal?"

"She is no ordinary mortal, and you know it. She was born with incredible powers that few could even dream of. She is to play a role in the future of our worlds, and I will not allow you to exile her further than she has already exiled herself just because you fear her potential for destruction!" Frigga was becoming increasingly agitated, and, though she did not insinuate anything of the reason, Odin thought he understood why.

He spoke quietly, for fear of being overheard. "You speak also of Loki, am I correct?"

Frigga dropped her head, not wishing her husband to see the tears welling up in her eyes. In a shaky voice, she replied, "I cannot bear the thought of you exiling Elsa because I see in her what I see in our son every day. Our son is alone in ways that go beyond our comprehension."

"What do you mean?"

"You and I, we have never doubted that we belong. Loki, though we have raised him among Asgardians, will never truly be one of us, and I fear that the longer he spends among us, the more he begins to suspect his true lineage." Frigga raised her eyes to her husband's face as a hot tear carved a path down her face. "If you are willing to take action with Elsa, why not our son, should the circumstances ever call for it?"

Odin's face was contorted, the inner conflict he was fighting mapped out in the lines that creased his old skin. "What would you have me do?"

Frigga wiped away her tears, suddenly hopeful. "Let me talk to her. I will go to Arendelle myself."

A silence ensued as Odin studied his wife's face. "Very well. Pay Elsa a visit. Help her to control her powers."

Frigga rose quickly. "Thank you, my king. I will leave immediately."

* * *

><p>Frigga hurried along the hallways of the palace. She had returned to her chambers to change into robes for travel, and was making her way towards the rainbow bridge when she stopped suddenly. On her right was the door to Loki's chambers. She wondered if it would be a good thing for her son to meet her new charge. Perhaps he would remember Elsa and how she – if everything went according to plan – learnt to control her powers, something which would be a valuable lesson for him to recall if he ever did discover his own control over the winter elements. Perhaps he would even help Elsa. Loki had many powers of his own that he was in full control over. Frigga hoped that this would give Elsa the confidence she needed to come to terms with her own abilities.<p>

She raised her hand to knock but hesitated, knowing that Odin would be furious if he ever found out. _I must do what is best for my son,_ Frigga thought to herself, and rapped her knuckles three times on the cool metal.

"Come in," Loki called from within.

Frigga pushed the door so that it swung open on its hinges. Her youngest son lay on his bed surrounded by the books he always kept so close. He looked up from the one he currently had open and met her gaze with a smile.

"Hello, Mother. What is it?"

"I want you to come on a short trip with me, Loki."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "A trip? A trip where?"

"You'll see when we get there," Frigga said evasively. "Will you come?"

"All right," Loki agreed hesitantly, although he found the whole situation baffling.

"Excellent, then put on your cape and shoes." He did as she asked.

Just as they were about to leave, Frigga turned to her son and said gravely, "Loki, it is very important that your father never finds out you came with me."

Loki looked startled. "Why? I do not wish to displease father."

"It will be alright," his mother said comfortingly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Just do not mention it to him under any circumstances."

And with that they set off for the Bifrost.

* * *

><p>They hurried across the rainbow bridge, Frigga increasingly conscious of the foolishness of her actions. Nevertheless, she was determined to protect her son in any way possible and so pressed on.<p>

Loki couldn't understand why his mother was taking him anywhere, let alone to another realm, which was the only explanation as to why they were going to the Bifrost. He had only left Asgard a couple of times in his life since he and his brother were still only children in Asgardian years.

Heimdall stood at the entrance to the Bifrost, feet planted in a wide stance, imposing as ever in his resplendent armour. His sword was held in front of him, point down against the ground. He looked entirely at ease, but his golden eyes betrayed the ferocity he hid beneath his cool facade. Heimdall was ruthless when it came to his duties as Gatekeeper to Asgard, and so even in the presence of the Queen and a prince, he did not move aside.

"Heimdall, may we pass?" Frigga asked, voice commanding but respectful.

"For what reason, Your Highness?" He replied, voice deep and gravelly, revealing no hint of emotion.

"We require passage to Midgard. May we pass?" she repeated.

"Follow me," Heimdall said, turning on his heel.

Entering the Bifrost was as breath taking an experience as ever. The golden sphere arced overhead, casting a strange light over everything within. Intricate patterns were carved into the walls with utmost precision. A circular dais rose from the centre of the floor. Heimdall ascended the steps, slow but purposeful, like a bear who knew he would not be challenged.

Frigga walked around the dais, Loki following behind her, and came to a halt on the far side. Heimdall asked if they were ready. The Queen nodded her affirmation and they both turned to face out of the gap in the Bifrost's walls.

Loki recognised the sound of metal on metal as Heimdall slid his sword part way into the chamber atop the dais. Lightning bolts crackled through the air, causing the hair on the back of Loki's neck to stand up. His fingertips tingled with anticipation.

"Call when you are ready to return," Heimdall said before forcing the blade deeper into the fissure and opening up the bridge, sending the two hurtling through space towards the realm of Midgard where Arendelle and Princess Elsa waited.


	2. Chapter 2

Elsa was huddled in the corner of her room, putting as much distance between herself and the door at which Anna had just come knocking as was possible. Her knees were brought up to her chest and her arms were wrapped tightly around them. Her hands, though gloved, were clenched tightly in an attempt to stop the frost which was spreading across the floor and up the walls, with her as the epicentre.

"Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel," she whispered to herself over and over again, rocking back and forth just to give her something to think about other than the mantra which had long since lost its meaning.

It had always had some effect on her when her father said it, but now he was gone. He had left her alone, him and her mother, and now she had no one who knew the truth about her monstrous powers. No one who could even begin to comprehend the isolation she felt in her every waking moment.

Suddenly, she felt someone's presence in the room. She raised her head from where it had been buried in her arms and gasped. Before her stood a tall, slender woman draped in elegant orange silks. Chestnut brown hair fell down her back in perfectly formed ringlets. Her face was kind, and her pale blue eyes conveyed a deep sadness and understanding that Elsa could not fathom.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Elsa asked, startled by the woman's sudden appearance.

"My name is Frigga-" she was cut off as she took a step towards Elsa.

"No! Stay back!" Elsa cried. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, my dear. My name is Frigga, wife of Odin, Allfather of the gods and ruler of Asgard, realm of the immortals."

Elsa's eyes widened, a look of disbelief and suspicion flashing behind the fear. "Why on Earth would I believe such a thing?"

Frigga held out her hand, palm up, and a series of images appeared, hovering like the lights that sometimes appeared over Arendelle in the night. It was on one of those nights that Anna had demanded they build a snowman, and Elsa had almost killed her with a stray blast of ice to the head. Elsa shuddered.

The images that Frigga summoned were a series of moments from Elsa's past, right from the day she was born to the present day. Elsa watched the projections in awe, her jaw hanging slightly open. Frigga closed her hand as the images ceased. "Do you believe me now?"

Elsa scrambled to her feet and curtsied low. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I did not know."

"It's quite all right, my dear."

"If I may, Your Majesty, why are you here?" Elsa enquired nervously.

Frigga considered the girl carefully, deciding how much she should tell her. She saw no reason to frighten the child further by informing her of her husband's intentions to banish her should her powers become too unruly. "We have been watching over you on Asgard since the day you were born."

"Me, Your Majesty? But, why?" Elsa said, taken aback.

"Isn't it obvious? Your abilities, my child. They are a gift, and one that must be protected. Elsa, you have in you the potential for great virtue. There is beauty in your powers, if you learn to control them. But, if you let your emotions get the better of you in this way, your powers pose a great threat to those around you." Frigga paused, letting her words sink in. Elsa was staring down at her hands. The Asgardian moved over to the bed and sat down, motioning for Elsa to join her.

"I fear I cannot control them," Elsa said quietly.

"Ah, but your fear is the problem, Elsa. It will consume you and be your downfall. You must learn to live in coexistence with your powers. This constant battle for dominance is not good for you. You must learn to become one with the storm inside of you."

"But how? If I let go I put everyone at risk."

"Your only other option is to carry on the way you are now. And clearly," Frigga said, motioning to the room around them, "that method is not proving very effective."

Elsa sighed. "I was improving. I was learning to control it before... Before-" she had to stop to choke back a sob rising in her throat. The frost in the room thickened slightly and Frigga leant across to take Elsa's hand between her own. She did not fear Elsa; she knew that even the girl's considerable powers would have no effect on the Queen of Asgard. Nevertheless, Elsa flinched away and would not let Frigga touch her. She did not trust herself.

Frigga sighed. "I understand that you are lonely, Elsa." She paused. After this there would be no changing her mind. "That's why I brought someone with me. I think you'll get along."

Elsa looked up, her curiosity piqued. "Who?" she was, of course, wary. She still didn't trust herself not to hurt anyone who came near, but at the same time, she was lonelier than she could say and the thought of any kind of interaction made her heart leap.

Frigga saw all of this in her face and smiled. "Loki. You can come in now."

* * *

><p>Loki, who had been standing outside the door on his mother's orders (though admittedly eavesdropping) pushed open the door and entered. His eyes widened at the sight before him. The room was completely covered with ice, and a light snow was falling, despite the fact that it was spring time outside. His eyes fell upon his mother who was sitting on the edge of the bed, and then upon the girl – Elsa, he believed his mother had called her.<p>

He had never been much of a romantic, preferring to stay in his chambers reading and practicing magic. He had always left the womanising to his brother. But even he could not fail to recognise Elsa's beauty. A pair of wide, ice blue eyes set into a heart-shaped face of flawlessly pale skin twinkled enchantingly. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a neat bun which exposed the full extent of her long, slender neck. The dress that she wore was not the most flattering, being mourning attire, but he could tell that her figure was equally exquisite. She looked around eighteen, just a few years younger than himself; he was a young Asgardian. Loki was quite taken aback and stood, slack-jawed, waiting for his mother to break the tension.

After an interminably long pause, she did. "Elsa, this is my son, Prince Loki of Asgard."

Elsa stood and curtsied as she had done for Frigga. Loki, still staring, took a moment to react, but bowed in return, something he rarely did so willingly, and something he had certainly never expected to do for a mortal of all things.

Frigga looked between them. "Loki, I presume you were listening in, and so no further introductions are necessary. I think I shall leave the two of you for a while. There is much for you to discuss." And with that she left, closing the door behind her.

The first few minutes were awkward. Neither of them knew why Frigga had left them alone, nor what she meant when she said they had much to discuss. As far as they knew, they had nothing in common with one another.

Loki cleared his throat nervously. "So... you did all of this?" He gestured to the walls and floor.

Elsa smiled shyly. "Yes. But I didn't mean to," she added hastily.

"Amazing," he breathed, coming further into the room and turning slowly, drinking in the beauty of what Elsa's powers had created.

Elsa gaped at him. "Amazing? No one's ever said that about me. I'm a monster, and this," – he paused, making the same action he had – "this is my curse."

Loki turned to face her. The sadness in her eyes astounded him. He had always been fascinated with conjuring and trickery, but Elsa's powers were unlike any magic he had encountered. It was beauty. Pure, crystalline beauty. That Elsa should fear it and be ashamed of it was incomprehensible to him.

"I find that difficult to believe. Why don't you tell me your story, and then perhaps I will tell you mine."

"There's really not that much to say. I've hardly left this room in a decade."

Loki was thoroughly intrigued by this girl. "I'd still like to hear," he pressed.

Elsa smiled slightly, and Loki was confused at the way his heart fluttered when her features lit up. "All right. Why don't you sit down?"

They sat on her bed and Loki listened intently as Elsa recounted her story from as far back as she could remember, omitting no details. She couldn't have said why, but on that day she bared her soul to this young man. Perhaps it was because she had been starved of human company for so many years, and this was an opportunity to vent feelings she had long kept hidden. But really, there was something in his emerald green eyes that she recognised. Elsa, with her unusually perceptive mind, saw in Loki the glance of solitude. Granted, it was a different kind of solitude to what she was used to, but it was solitude all the same.

She was comforted by the way he watched her, head tilted thoughtfully to the side as he soaked up her words. He was different to everyone else. He wasn't afraid of her; he was fascinated by her. He even asked for a demonstration of her abilities. Elsa took some coaxing. The last time she had used her powers on purpose she had almost killed her little sister.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said, folding her delicate hands against her chest.

Loki smiled at her. "You won't," he said gently, reaching out to take her hands.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know things. Just like I know that you can control this. I'm exceedingly intelligent, you see," he replied with false haughtiness. When he saw that his attempt to lighten the mood had had little effect on her, he added, "And because I trust you."

Elsa was mesmerised. She stopped pulling away and just watched, completely still, as he took her wrists in his hands and removed her gloves. She flexed her fingers, watching how they moved. It had been a long time since she had seen her hands.

Loki smiled encouragingly. "Go on. Show me."

Elsa took a deep breath and held out her hand, palm up. A perfectly formed snowflake appeared and hovered for a moment before shooting up towards the ceiling. It exploded in an ice blue flurry and snow began to fall.

Loki laughed gleefully. "This is incredible," he said as snow began to settle in his jet black hair. Elsa smiled widely and began to move her hands in intricate patterns, sending ice crystals swirling through the air. She manipulated them into images: Arendelle castle; a ship on rough seas; her sister Anna running through the halls as a child; and finally, Loki himself. Slowly, she let the snow drop.

Loki turned to her. "All right. I'm not one to break a deal. My turn."

For the next hour Elsa listened as Loki told her of his life on Asgard. Just as she had been honest with him, he told her everything, even that which he would not dare tell his mother. He told Elsa how growing up he had always felt as though he didn't belong. It was clear to him that no matter what he did his father favoured Thor. He did not wish to be above his brother, only equal. Loki just wanted his father to see that, while he was different to Thor, not feeling anywhere near as at home on the battlefield, he had his own gifts that made him worthy of his birth rights.

Loki was surprised at how willing he was to open up to Elsa, and found himself enjoying the feeling of lightness it gave him. However soon he grew tired of talking about himself; he knew they didn't have forever and he hadn't learnt nearly enough about her.

So they discussed their powers. Elsa continued forming snow flurries and forming objects and even small structures out of ice. Loki, in turn, showed her many of the spells he had mastered. He made green flames dance across his fingertips and conjured apparitions. He showed her how he could create doubles of himself and pass through solid objects, all the while revelling in the delighted expression on her face.

It was strange, but he felt closer to Elsa after knowing her for only two hours than he had felt to his own brother in his entire life. It was as though they shared some deep, unspoken understanding of one another. Neither of them could explain it, but the beauty of it was that they didn't have to.

* * *

><p>Eventually Frigga returned. The pair were so deep in conversation that they did not notice her arrival. She cleared her throat gently. The Asgardian looked between them and smiled. "Did I not tell you that you could control your powers?"<p>

Elsa's brow furrowed. "Your Majesty?"

"My dear, look around you. When I arrived this room was frostier than a Jotunheim winter. Now look. The ice has receded." Frigga laughed at Elsa's startled expression. "And you didn't even notice."

"It would appear that I was right. Unsurprising, really," Loki interjected laughingly, grinning at Elsa. She returned the smile, her heart jumping at the mischievous flash of teeth.

She stood and curtsied. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I am indebted to you."

"No. Thank you, Elsa," Frigga replied crossing the distance between them and lifting her chin so that she could look her in the eyes. "You have given me hope in more ways than you can possibly know." She placed a gentle kiss on Elsa's forehead before turning to leave again. "I will let you two say goodbye."

Loki and Elsa watched the door close behind her. As it clicked shut they looked at one another. Elsa was the first to speak this time. "Will you be back?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I hope so, though. I really do."

Elsa nodded, casting her eyes to the ground. She didn't want him to leave, which was odd. By now she was so used to pushing people away, but the thought of seeing the door close behind Loki of Asgard made her unbearably sad.

"Well, just in case, here's something to remember me by," she said. She waved her hands and a small object the size and shape of a pebble formed. She pressed it into his hands. Loki ran his fingers over it. It was cool and smooth, obviously made of ice. It was clear as glacial water, but through it ran spiralling threads of blue and white hues suspiciously similar to her hair and eye colour. It was delicate, and beautiful, and complex, just like Elsa. Loki clutched it tightly.

He waved his own hands and a small emerald flame appeared, the same colour exactly as his bright eyes. "For you. Just in case," he said, voice lowered. Then, when she hesitated, "Don't worry, it won't burn you."

She reached out and took it between her hands, eyes wide with fascination. It flickered softly, emitting a warmth that worked its way through her, all the way to her heart, which she had thought would remain like ice forever. "It's beautiful," she said, unable to convey how deeply his gift touched her. "Thank you, Loki."

He smiled down at her, still struggling to understand why her ice blue eyes made him feel so warm inside. He lifted his hand to her face and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She blushed warmly but made no attempt to move away. He brought his face closer to hers and whispered, "Until next time, my ice queen," before pressing his lips gently to hers.

Then he pulled away and slipped silently out of the door, leaving Elsa alone again, but less lonely than she had felt in years.

She touched her lips softly, and smiled, her eyes filled with hope. Hope that she would one day be able to master her gifts – for in their short time together Loki had taught her that her powers were indeed a gift – and become Arendelle's queen without fear of harming her people.

She stayed up for hours just staring at the flame and thinking of the man who had created it for her. Though the flame was a great comfort, it was unnecessary. Elsa knew that she would never forget Loki Odinson.


	3. Chapter 3

The Allfather was beside himself with fury. Heimdall, ever loyal, had informed him directly that his wife had taken Loki with her to Midgard. He had struggled to believe her capable of this, especially given the turn their last conversation had taken, but knew that Heimdall would not have deceived him. Odin stormed through the hallways of the palace towards the chambers he shared with his wife. He burst through the doors, crimson cape billowing out behind him like dragon's breath.

"Frigga!" he bellowed, seeing the room empty.

The queen entered the chamber from one of the numerous adjoining rooms, still dressed in her travelling garments. She stopped abruptly at the sight of her husband. It was immediately apparent that he was in a rage. His eyepatch seemed to glisten with golden ire. His knuckles were white from gripping his staff so tightly. Frigga was no fool; she knew there was only one possible explanation for her husband's temper, but she would not give in to him so easily.

"My lord?" she replied, voice calm.

"Do not play games with me, Frigga. I will not be mocked. Did you think it would escape my attention that our son accompanied you on your journey today?"

"I had hoped so, though perhaps I was naive to believe that Heimdall would hold his tongue," she said, more than a little insolently.

"Do not attempt to place blame on the gatekeeper," Odin spat. "You are the one in the wrong here, Frigga!"

"I fail to see how so, my lord. I took Loki to Midgard with me because I believed - and rightly so, I might add - that both he and Elsa would benefit from the company of the other. I can see no justifiable reason," she added, raising her voice so as not to be interrupted, "for you to be in such a temper about it."

"Don't be facetious. You knowingly went against my wishes by taking our son there."

"I did no such thing. You told me to help Elsa control her powers, and I did, with the added benefit of showing our son that such powers can in fact be controlled."

"Surely you cannot be so blind!" Odin said, appalled. "We have tried his entire life to keep Loki's true parentage hidden from him. You said yourself that he already feels an outcast. If he were ever to find out that he was born a frost giant, it would end him! And you thought it wise to thrust him into the path of a woman with the power to control ice?"

Frigga would not be deterred. "Loki is no closer to the truth now than he was before he met Elsa. In fact, the only thing that has changed is that they both feel a little less alone in the world! If you cannot see the good in that, Odin, then it is you who is blind, not I."

Odin shouted in exasperation, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground and sending sparks flying. Frigga remained unmoved. "Can you not see what you have done? Our last conversation consisted of you telling me that you fear the actions I might take if Loki ever becomes a danger to this realm," he paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued. "Do you wish for that day to come?"

"You know full well that I do not," Frigga said indignantly, offended at what her husband was suggesting.

"Very well. Then we are agreed on what must happen," he said cryptically as he turned to leave.

Frigga ran to place herself between Odin and the door. "What must happen?"

"All memories of their meeting must be erased. On both their parts."

Frigga's face fell. "Odin, no! You cannot!"

"I have no other option, Frigga. You have forced my hand in the matter." He pushed past her into the hallway, but only got a few strides before he was stopped by his wife pulling his arm. Her eyes were glistening.

"Odin, had you seen the effect they had on one another, you would not dare. Elsa blossomed. She made more progress with her abilities in those short hours with our son than she has in years. And Loki! I have never seen him look so at ease with another person before."

"That is precisely what worries me. Has it occurred to you that perhaps the reason he felt so 'at ease' was that his innate connection to ice was awakened through his interaction with the girl?" Odin was hissing the words now.

Frigga could not think how to reply to this. Of course it had occurred to her, but the happiness she had seen both in Elsa and her son had erased any fleeting doubts she might have had about the origins of this happiness. She watched, helpless, as Odin strode away down the corridor towards Loki's chambers.

* * *

><p>Loki sat on his bed, books to one side, turning Elsa's ice token over and over again in his hands. A smile flitted across his face as he recalled the kiss that had taken place just after she gave it to him.<p>

The smile faded as he recognised the raised voices of his parents outside his door.

"Odin, please, don't. Anything but this," his mother was pleading.

"My mind is made up, Frigga. Step aside." There was a coldness in his father's voice that filled Loki with dread, and he clutched the token tighter.

He stood as his father burst into the room, glowering as though about to take on an army, followed by his mother whose face was contorted with despair.

"Father, what-" Loki did not get to finish his sentence, as Odin crossed the distance between them and placed his hand on Loki's head. Loki's eyes rolled back in his skull and he collapsed on the bed, the token rolling out of his open palm. This went unnoticed by Odin whose own eyes were shut in concentration as he removed all memories of Elsa of Arendelle from his son's mind.

Frigga, acting purely on impulse, rushed forward and snatched the token from where it lay atop the sheets, managing to stow it away in the folds of her dress before Odin opened his eyes again.

"He will not remember her," the Allfather said quietly. Then, pausing by his wife's side on his way out he added, "It is for his own good, Frigga."

Then he left. Frigga rushed to Loki's side. He was in a deep sleep and would remain so for several hours. Having one's mind tampered with took its toll, even on a god. She brushed a lock of dark hair from his face and stroked his cheek lovingly. His already pale complexion seemed to have blanched several shades.

She took out the token and stared at it mournfully. She could not bear the thought of having to tell her son that he would never see Elsa again, but even worse was the knowledge that he would never even know she existed. He would have nothing to remember her by, not even a distant memory.

Suddenly she had a thought. Making sure Loki was comfortable, she left his chambers, heading towards the trading district with renewed purpose.

* * *

><p>Odin stood over Elsa as she lay asleep, a peaceful look on her face. The room was completely free of ice which, though he admitted was quite remarkable, did not sway his decision. Protecting Loki was his ultimate priority, and the happiness of one mortal, gifted or otherwise, would not change that.<p>

It was not without regret that he began the process of tampering with Elsa's memories. He could see, just as he had with Loki, that their connection ran far deeper than a mutual affinity for magic. However this simply served to fuel Odin's certainty that what he was doing was necessary; if Loki became too close to the girl he could also become closer to the truth of his parentage.

This process was more difficult. With Loki all he had had to do was make him believe that Frigga had never come to his room; that he had stayed in his chambers reading rather than travelling to Midgard. Just a tiny tweak and all memories of Elsa were suppressed so deep it would be impossible to ever dig them up again. However Odin wanted to make Elsa believe that he had come in Frigga's stead, and had told her everything his wife had deigned to omit, such as the threat of exile.

Replacing a true memory with a false one was far harder than just burying an existing one, and subsequently the illusion was far more likely to crumble over time if prompted. Odin convinced himself this was irrelevant because the only thing strong enough to prompt the original memory back to the surface was an encounter with Loki, something he would not allow to happen.

Elsa tossed and turned in her sleep, but did not wake. When Odin opened his eyes, satisfied with his work, she lay still, just as Loki had. Odin felt a surge of pity for the girl, her beautiful features pulled taut with distress. He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Rest now, child," he mumbled. "Asgard will be watching over you."

As he was about to leave, Odin paused. He noticed Loki's flame hovering beside the bed, casting a pale green glow over the room. Sighing, but with unshakeable resolve, he reached out and quashed the flame in his fist.

With that the Allfather turned and left, failing to notice the chill that had permeated the air and the ice that was slowly creeping back into the room. Just like a sly beast reclaiming its lair after an intrusion by a creature more powerful than itself, the gaping hole in Elsa's heart left by the loss of Loki Odinson was filled once more with the fear that had governed her life for so long.


	4. Chapter 4

- Three Years Later -

Loki was breathing heavily, clutching the end of his golden staff as he dangled in empty space, the Bifrost tumbling away beneath him. Thor had a hold of the other end, and Odin of Thor. Loki's eyes were fixed on him. All the emotions which had been driving him over the past weeks were broiling under the surface: anger, jealousy, betrayal, even love. There was a visceral need inside him to prove both to Odin and himself that even though he was not Loki Odinson, but Loki Laufeyson, he was worthy of Odin's love and approval.

That need was there even now, when he knew he had failed yet again. "I could have done it, Father!" He yelled, voice cracking. "I could have done it! For you! For all of us."

Odin held his gaze. "No, Loki."

He spoke quietly, so it was a wonder he was heard over the strength of the winds. But his words were clear enough to Loki. In that moment, he felt his heart, along with the hopes he had built up, shatter like the rainbow bridge that was crumbling away as they spoke.

Thor saw this in his brother's eyes. He watched the last of the mischievous light dissipate and be replaced by a barren darkness. "Loki, no!" He bellowed, because he understood what was about to happen.

Loki did not hear him. He heard nothing; saw nothing but Odin as he relaxed his grip on the staff, his last tie to his family, and was pulled backwards towards the stars.

His hair whipped his face as he fell. Constellations swirled around him like he was inside a kaleidoscope. Intensely coloured cosmic clouds were sprinkled with stars, a harsh contrast to his thoughts, which were black and empty.

He fell, unsure of his destination. Not really knowing if he had one. Was he even alive? Part of him hoped he was not.

Shards from the Bifrost were swirling around him, their jagged edges whistling past his body. He did not notice them until one slid through a chink in his armour and into the flesh of his shoulder below his collar bone. A gasp escaped his lips as a searing heat flowed through his chest and left arm. His vision began to blur and fade as pain clamped him in its vice-like grip, the energy from the Bifrost trapped within the shard spreading throughout his entire body.

Loki was on fire; he was sure of it, the pain was so intense. But through the agonising haze, Loki felt something calming. There was a point on his arm untouched by the heat, and he focused on that point with all the strength he had until his mind capitulated and his eyes slid shut.

* * *

><p>When he woke he was no longer falling, but lying on his back, staring up at a steel grey sky. He resisted the burning pain in his shoulder and pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around him. Desolate planes of ice spread all the way to the horizon, undulating slightly but remaining mostly flat until they met a line of craggy mountains which shot up into the clouds.<p>

"Jotunheim," he whispered, appalled that he recognised the landscape so easily.

He had no idea how he had gotten here. The only solution he could come up with was that he had somehow found the strength to teleport after he lost consciousness, though he could not understand why his unconscious mind would decide to bring him to Jotunheim. It may have been his birth place, but it was not his home; he had no home now, having been cast from Asgard. Even so, he would never willingly return here. Loki had been so ashamed and angered at his connection to the ice realm that he had tried to destroy it and wipe its foul race from existence.

_Then why in all Nine Realms am I here?_ Loki wondered silently.

He tried to think back to the moments before he blacked out, but all he could remember was the pain coursing through his veins. He winced at the memory. Loki was still in pain, but it was no more than a ghost of what had been there before. He pulled himself to his feet.

It was evident from the way his knees trembled that he was too weak to teleport anywhere and so Loki decided to find shelter. The mountains were the only landmark as far as he could see and so he made for them.

The walk was not long, only a few miles, but it took him over an hour in his weakened state. To make matters worse, as he reached the foot of the nearest mountain, the temperature plummeted and snowflakes began to fall. Within minutes Loki was fighting his way through a full blown blizzard. His emerald cape, torn and dirtied, whipped around his ankles and he lifted his arm to shield his face from the bite of the wind. The cold had never had much hold over him for reasons he had not understood until recently, but there was force behind this storm; anger and pain, as though the elements were at war with their emotions.

Loki felt himself falter and fell to his knees, grunting with exertion. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sky cleared and the storm was gone.

_Forsaken lump of ice,_ he thought angrily, climbing to his feet and brushing himself off. _It's a wonder I'm the first who's tried to destroy it.  
><em>  
>He had reached the mountains regardless. He pressed onwards and upwards, through narrow passes and along chasm edges. His original purpose had been to find shelter, but despite passing several caves, something kept pushing him on. It was like an inexplicable tug somewhere deep in his stomach; an instinct, perhaps.<p>

He trudged through thick snow for hours, climbing ever higher. When he was just below the cloud line, he stopped. It was surely madness to continue any further, but curiosity got the better of him. He held out his hand and summoned a ball of flame which he then sent shooting off into the cloud. It very briefly cut a gap in the foggy veil before it closed back up again, but in those few seconds he saw something glint, and could not resist investigating.

As he emerged from the clouds, he came to a halt, his jaw dropping slightly. A huge structure towered upwards at least three hundred feet, its majestic towers and spires shining like prisms, their myriad soft colours seductive in the pale sunlight. It clung to the side of the mountain as though they were one, and appeared to be made entirely of ice. This was not the work of frost giants. Loki had seen their architecture. It was dark and aggressive looking, but what stood before him was a masterpiece worthy of Asgard.

Hesitantly, with steps weighed down by exhaustion and pain, Loki staggered across the surprisingly sturdy bridge spanning the chasm between him and the castle. Loki could think of many reasons to stay away from the castle and whoever lived there, but he could feel his strength draining, and the thought of possible death did not frighten him, but compelled him, for what reason did he have to go on living anyway?

He lifted his arm and thumped his closed fist against the towering sheet of glass that was the front door. It opened almost immediately, though no one had touched it. He stepped warily across the threshold and stopped, once more taken aback by the beauty of what he saw.

He was standing in a large circular room, bare save a fountain - which was more ornamental than functional as the water was frozen and hanging in icy tendrils - and the sweeping staircase which passed over it. Broad pillars towered upwards to support a vaulted ceiling and the crystalline chandelier which dangled precariously over Loki's head. He saw his breaths come out in puffs as he turned on the spot, mouth open.

Suddenly Loki sensed another presence in the room. He turned to locate the presence and found something he had not expected. A young woman stood at the top of the stairs looking down at him warily. A pair of wide blue eyes and thin pink lips were set into a dainty face. Her hair was swept back from her face in a long, snow-coloured braid that fell over her shoulder. Loki was awed, partly by her beauty, and partly because he could not believe that a woman like this could live in such a desolate place. His reaction irritated him, and he hardened immediately.

"There aren't many people who can sneak up on me," Loki said flatly.

"There aren't many people who climb to the top of the North Mountain," the woman retorted without hesitation.

There was a moment of silence as the two summed each other up. "Who are you?" she said finally.

"I am Loki of Asgard."

"Loki," she murmured thoughtfully, a look of confusion flitting across her face. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Why are you here? Has he changed his mind after all, and sent someone to kill me?"

It was Loki's turn to be confused. He did not know who this woman was, or who the 'he' she spoke of was, but what she was implying insulted his pride. "I have no idea what you speak of, but I am no one's attack dog. I am a king."

"And I am a queen," replied the woman calmly. "Or was. But regardless of status, you are under my roof, so I'll ask you again: why are you here, Loki of Asgard, if not to put an end to me and my curse?"

Loki was becoming frustrated and increasingly puzzled by this woman. He did not enjoy being puzzled. "I can assure you I've not come to kill you. I don't even know your name, let alone anything about a curse. I simply seek shelter for the night, if Your Grace would be so kind."

The woman watched him for a long moment, deciding whether or not to trust him. He seemed like the type to whom lying was second nature, and she did not believe for one second that he was king of anything. On the other hand, he was in a terrible state; his lip and cheek split, his green tunic stained with blood and his lower legs caked in snow that she imagined would be freezing for anyone other than her. Elsa was many things, but even after everything she had been through, heartless was certainly not one of them.

"My apologies. Isolation hasn't done my manners any favours. I'm Elsa of Arendelle. You're welcome to rest here for the night, since I don't believe you've come to kill me."

At this Loki grunted. She was a little slow on the uptake, this Elsa. She gestured for him to follow and they made their way through the castle, Loki trying desperately to focus on something other than the incredibly distracting sway of her hips. She stopped outside a set of doors and turned to face him.

"You can use this room," she said. "It should be comfortable enough, though I'm afraid I can't do anything about the temperature."

"That's all right," Loki replied, smiling bitterly. "The cold never bothered me anyway."

Elsa stared at him for a moment, slightly bewildered. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, nor did she particularly care to find out. There was something strangely familiar about him that she found unsettling. "I've decided to trust you, Loki. Please don't make me change my mind."

With that she left him, sweeping back down the corridor the way they had come. Loki watched her for a moment, amused, wondering what such a delicate thing could possibly do to hurt him, before pushing open the door to his room and collapsing onto the bed, exhausted. Within minutes he had fallen into a deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki was walking through the halls of the palace on Asgard, his footfalls echoing along the empty passage ways. There was a physical pain in his chest when he considered that he might never be able to return here. He felt homesick looking at the towering gold walls and exquisitely decorated halls.

His feet had subconsciously led him to his chambers. Hesitantly pushing open the door, he entered his old room and looked around wistfully. It was exactly as he remembered it. The bed was sloppily made, the covers hanging off the sides at awkward angles. His desk was just as messy, with papers, scrolls and open books scattered untidily across the broad oaken surface.

A fresh wave of pain washed over Loki as he remembered the days before his anger and jealousy had consumed him; the days when he had been content to lose himself between the pages of a book, convinced he could find all the answers he needed hidden in their inky embrace. He reached out to touch them, overwhelmed by an insatiable longing to run his fingers along their bindings, as if that alone could reverse all the harm he had done since he last perused their pages.

He turned as he heard a loud crash behind him. His door had been flung open, and in the archway stood Odin. Loki's blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat.

But then the Allfather smiled and crossed the room, sweeping Loki into a strong hug.

"My son," Odin laughed, voice booming in Loki's ear. "You have come home!"

Loki was astounded. "I – I am not your son," he stuttered, unable in his shock to say anything else.

Odin pulled away, and it was all Loki could do to keep from crying out, because the face he saw was no longer that of Odin Allfather, but rather the patterned blue face of Laufey, the frost giant who had fathered Loki, and who Loki had murdered.

"Yes," Laufey said, his voice like gravel. "You are my son, and none of your pathetic magic tricks will ever change that."

Loki tried to push him away, but Laufey's hands were clamped around his shoulders. "You're dead," Loki protested weakly, cold sweat starting to bead on his brow.

"No, boy. I am you, and you are me. You are my kin, and as long as you breathe, I cannot die."

Loki shuddered. Laufey laughed, harsh and guttural. "You cannot escape me, Loki_ Laufeyson_. You are a monster, just like me. My blood runs in your veins."

With those words, Laufey raise his arm into the air, an icy blade forming in his fist as he did so. Loki gasped as he brought it down, plunging the frosty dagger into his flesh and spraying blood over the books he had so cherished.

* * *

><p>Loki's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, panting as he clawed at his shoulder where he had felt Laufey's blade pierce his flesh. It was just where the shard from the Bifrost had hit him, but there was no new wound. His Asgardian body had served him well, and the wound had already healed. He groaned, passing his hand over his face. His skin was cold and clammy, and his hair was damp with sweat, as were the sheets that lay tangled around his limbs.<p>

He knew he would not be able to fall asleep again and so he swung his feet out of the bed and stood up, somewhat shakily. He had not bothered to undress properly before falling asleep, only removing the top layer of armour. Now he removed all but the base layer so that he was only wearing a simple black tunic and a pair of thin trousers. Both were torn but he had no other option.

He pushed open his door and made his way out into the hallway. It was still night outside, and the Jotunheim darkness was absolute. Loki was only able to see where he was walking because of the strange luminosity of the castle's walls. His boots clicked softly on the icy floors but the silence of Elsa's palace remained largely undisturbed. Loki was not sure where he was walking to, but his restless mind would not allow him to stay still, and so he wandered the halls of the castle, the horrors of his dream fresh in his broken mind.

* * *

><p>Elsa stood on her balcony looking down upon the frozen wasteland below. Her face was void of expression but her mind was swimming with thoughts of the strange man who slept down the corridor.<p>

She had seen his green fire come shooting through the clouds and so had been prepared. She had watched him stand on the far side of the bridge gawping up at her castle, and had had half a mind to summon her snowy doorkeeper to deal with him. He had made her immediately suspicious; he was not a Jotun, but no mortal could have scaled the North Mountain in the state he was in, so she had had to conclude that he was from Asgard, since no other realms were known to her.

This had not surprised her. Elsa hadn't expected Odin to spare her for long, and a small part of her had been happy. She hated it here. She had always been isolated, but at least in Arendelle she had been close to her sister, if not really with her. Here on Jotunheim all ties to what little of her family remained were severed and her powers raged more out of control than ever. Just earlier she had set off a blizzard simply because she had remembered when Anna had stood on this balcony with her, begging her to return to Arendelle. Of course, that had been on Midgard and now she was on Jotunheim. All things considered, it had probably been a mistake to make her castle here look the same as the one she had built at home. There were too many things here to trigger bad memories.

However, despite all of this, Elsa did not wish to die. There was a hopefulness inside her that refused to be quenched, and it told her that if she could stay here until she learned to control her curse, Odin would let her return to Arendelle and see her sister again. And so when she had seen Loki approaching she had been ready to defend herself. But something about him had stopped her. There was something in his stance and the way his eyes glinted with that suppressed mischievousness that struck a nerve deep inside her, but she could not for the life of her think why. Whenever she tried to place where she had seen him before the thought slipped out of her reach. It was infuriating, like trying to make sense of a half-remembered dream.

She tensed, the feeling of being watched making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She gripped the railing on the balcony a little harder.

"Who's doing the sneaking now?" she said without turning around.

Loki shifted uncomfortably and stepped forward onto the balcony. He had not intended to stop and talk to his host, but he could not help but watch her. Elsa had been standing with her head tilted slightly to the side, giving away the depth of her thinking. He found the curve of her neck and the way her hair fell - not a hair out of place and yet appearing somehow tousled at the same time - very distracting. He didn't like it one bit.

"Forgive me. You appeared engaged. I didn't wish to disturb you," Loki said, only letting the slightest hint of his irritation seep into his tone.

"It's all right," Elsa said. "I was only thinking."

There was a brief silence as the two just watched each other slightly warily, though each had very different reasons for doing so.

Elsa put her distrust to one side and sighed. "Can't sleep?" she asked.

Loki shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "Too much on my mind, I suppose."

Elsa nodded knowingly. "I know the feeling," she said a little sadly.

Loki eyed her sceptically, not believing she could comprehend the things he felt, but the look in her eyes made him reconsider his doubts. She was young, not much older than twenty by the looks of her, and yet lived alone in a mountaintop fortress in one of the most barren of the nine realms. And then there was what she had said when they first met, when she had immediately assumed that Loki had been sent to kill her. Considering this, Loki felt his curiosity be piqued.

"Really?" he asked, stepping forward so that he stood next to her at the balcony's edge.

She laughed and looked up at him. "You seem surprised."

"I'm rarely surprised, my lady. Although I am curious about you."

"Likewise," she replied. "You're strange, Loki of Asgard; I can tell that much already."

He smirked down at her. "You're not wrong."

"Tell me," she said, her blue eyes wide and encouraging.

"All right then," Loki said. "A trade: my story for yours."

"Agreed," Elsa responded. "You first. I want to know how, and why, you managed to climb to the top of my mountain."

Loki chuckled darkly. "It wasn't easy. I got caught in a blizzard on my way up. I've never seen a storm rage with such - ," he stopped when he saw Elsa's face. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry about that," she murmured apologetically. "I was a little upset."

Loki didn't understand her meaning at first, but then the pieces clicked together. The blizzard, the lonely ice castle, the snowy hair and ice blue eyes, and the mysterious 'curse'. He almost laughed. "That was you?" he said incredulously.

Elsa grimaced. "My curse," she explained. "I can control ice.''

Loki stared at her with mingled awe and fascination. Elsa stared back, searching for some trace of fear. Finding none, she was faced with a situation she was unfamiliar with. Loki presented her with the opportunity to confide in someone who had no preconceptions about her, and who placed no pressure on her to be anything she wasn't.

So they stood beneath the stars, and Elsa recounted her life to him. At first she was hesitant, telling only the most elemental things, but slowly they grew more comfortable in each other's' company. The gap between them lessened until their arms were almost touching. Loki stood rapt as Elsa told him stories of her childhood; the emergence of her gifts, the accident with Anna, the spiralling descent into helplessness that followed, and her isolation. He could relate to her loneliness in a way he had never expected to connect with another person, and so became almost distressed when she retold the events that transpired after her coronation. Her escape from Arendelle, the visit from her sister, the attempt on her life by the Duke of Weselton's guards, her imprisonment and subsequent escape onto the frozen fjord, and her sister's act of bravery as she threw herself in front of Hans's blade just as she turned to ice, a result of Elsa's powers. Elsa explained how even after she had saved Anna and thawed Arendelle, she had known there would be consequences.

Sure enough, as soon as Elsa was alone, Odin had appeared. Elsa had protested only weakly when he insisted that she be exiled. Loki's calm façade began to chip away at this part of Elsa's tale. His anger at Odin was exacerbated as he learnt of his involvement in Elsa's misery.

"I don't understand," he said through gritted teeth. "You unfroze your kingdom. You learnt to control your powers, just as he wanted you to."

"All the same, there was no way of knowing for sure that what I did wasn't just luck," Elsa replied sullenly.

Elsa's quiet acceptance of Odin's actions only fuelled Loki's anger. "What my – what Odin did was wrong! Where is his sense of honour?"

"You must try to understand, Loki. The lengths Odin went to in order to protect Arendelle and other kingdoms from the frost giants were immeasurable. He explained to me that the magic in the wards he placed on the kingdoms was so strong that it gave the land and everyone living there longevity of life."

Loki looked at her incredulously. He had never heard of such powerful sorcery, and certainly not used by his – by Thor's father. Odin had always frowned upon Loki's fascination with conjuring, seeing it as a coward's weapon and favouring Thor's strength and natural tendency towards hand to hand combat.

"He told me," Elsa continued, "that this was why he could not take the risk of allowing me to remain on Midgard. Because I could potentially endanger not only Arendelle, but the world beyond the wards, which he tells me has gone on developing and growing."

"Well, he wasn't lying to you about that. The Midgardians have certainly progressed beyond horse-drawn carriages and triple-masted sailing ships. But that doesn't condone the way Odin acted. He is the Allfather, and should know better than to banish one as gentle as you to a wasteland like this," he spat, gesturing to the frozen expanse below them.

Elsa looked at him with placid eyes, but Loki saw the storm raging behind them. She reached out and touched his arm, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Loki could feel her cool fingertips brush over his skin through his shirt, and was confused by the sparks of electricity that seems to flow through him at the contact.

"It's all right, Loki," she murmured, as though he was the one in need of comforting. Perhaps he was. "Really, I'm fine."

Loki frowned, baffled by her willingness to forgive when there was so much for her to be furious about. She was so much like him in that she had suffered isolation all her life, and eventually been exiled for trying to do what was right, and yet they were so different. She had supposedly accepted her fate; Loki, try as he might, could not do the same.

Elsa sighed. "I know we agreed to trade stories, but I am tired. Perhaps you could stay another day, so that I might hear your tales from Asgard."

Loki nodded, surprised at how readily his answer came to him. "I would like that very much."

Elsa smiled more widely than Loki had been expecting, and he felt himself smile in return, conscious that his suppressed happiness at being accepted by Elsa was reaching his eyes and giving him away. She made no comment, however. She just wished him a good night before turning back into her castle, leaving Loki alone, but less lonely than he had felt in years.


	6. Chapter 6

_NOTE: Hey guys! So... sorry for the delay but exams + chronic writer's block isn't exactly the formula for a happy fic writer! Also this chapter isn't as long as I would've liked but c'est la vie. A__nyways hope you guys enjoy _:D

* * *

><p>Loki was back in his room, reclining against the icy headrest of the four poster bed. It was not yet dawn; Jotunheim nights were dark and lingering, and the sun had not yet appeared to soften the horizon.<p>

Despite the almost absolute darkness, Loki could not sleep. His head swam with thoughts of Elsa. He found it remarkable that someone so delicate and graceful could wield a power so deadly. It was unsurprising, really, that Odin had feared the danger she posed to Midgardians, considering even Loki, a Jotun by birth, had been affected by her snowstorm. But it didn't excuse the abhorrent way Odin had treated her.

Loki's teeth ground together just thinking about it. His fists clenched so hard that his fingernails threatened to draw blood from his palms. His emotions still raged whenever he thought of the Allfather, the man who had taken him from his home and raised him as his own, telling him over and over that he was strong and worthy, when in truth he was nothing more than another stolen relic.

All his life Loki had been lied to and given false hopes about his chances of being crowned king, but even after he discovered the truth he had remained loyal. He had tried to protect the sanctity of Asgard, and he had been exiled for it; cast into an abyss for doing what was right. Just like Elsa. He had not thought he could be angrier at Odin until Elsa had imparted to him her own tale of woe.

But though he tried to remain angry, Loki's countenance immediately softened as thoughts of her entered his plagued mind. He was fascinated by her. She seemed so calm and steady on the surface – and so she should, for she had had a lifetime of solitude to perfect her apparent apathy – but Loki could see the battles she fought within. He couldn't put his finger on why, exactly, but he felt that he knew Elsa, though he had never seen her prior to the previous day.

Loki was too stubborn, too proud, to call it an attraction. Attraction was, in his mind, a weakness. It made people dependent on something as fickle as another person, and drove them to do foolish things. Even so, Loki could not pull his thoughts away from Elsa. Her enigmatic stare had become the unmoving centrepiece of his tumultuous mind.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, gasping as a sudden burst of pain lanced through his shoulder, just where the shard from the Rainbow Bridge had bitten his flesh.

_Gods_, he cursed silently. _I thought that had healed._

He gingerly pulled his shirt over his head to inspect the wound, but there wasn't one. The skin had knitted itself back together as it should have, leaving nothing but a jagged pink line that had already faded considerably. Loki frowned. It had felt as though the shard was still in him.

Then he grunted. _It must have broken off inside me_, he thought irritably. He would have to deal with that, but not now; he was weary and would likely just cause himself unnecessary pain.

His eyes drifted to the gold cuff that circled his upper arm, its sunny opulence a harsh yet pleasant contrast to his pale skin. It had been a gift from Frigga, the woman who, even after the truth of his lineage became known to him, he had no problem calling 'mother'. The cuff had a small stone set into it, clear as glacial water, though it was streaked with blue and white. He didn't know what the stone was, or why his mother had given it to him, but he had cherished it then, and he cherished it still. He was never without it.

Loki was half-conscious of the temperature in the room dropping, his breath puffing out in larger plumes into the newly frigid air. He paid little heed to it, his Jotun roots allowing him to carry on unfazed by the change.

He looked up from his scrutiny of his shoulder, however, at the sound of the wind howling outside his shuttered window. Strong gusts whistled through the many chasms and valleys of the mountains at such speeds that it sounded like someone screaming far off in the distance. The shutters began to rattle with startling ferocity before the pin holding them closed snapped with a twang and dropped to the floor. Wind and snow burst through the yawning gap, throwing the shutters back with such force that they ricocheted off the walls and shattered as well.

Loki stood up and moved forward, angling his body to battle against the angry gale and reach the window. He touched his hand to the window frame and a thick layer of ice formed across the fissure, barring the entrance of the storm. He turned his hand before his face, looking somewhat appreciative. He may not like the truth of his lineage, but the ice that ran in his veins was certainly an advantage. Not to mention that it came to him far more naturally than any of his other magic and so wasn't nearly as taxing to his energy reserves.

Loki paused, panting slightly, and ran his hand through his tangled hair. Then suddenly he froze, tilting his head to the side as he tried to discern a sound. In the relative silence, he realised that what he had thought was just the wind actually was someone screaming. His heart seemed to plummet into his stomach.

Without stopping to think or consider why his reaction had been so violent, Loki bolted out the door and down the corridor, following the sounds of Elsa's screams. Each wail cut through the darkness like a dagger on canvas, and Loki winced every time one reached his ears.

He finally found the doors to Elsa's chambers, but the doors were frozen shut, at least doubled in thickness and hermetically sealed by jagged chunks of ice that ran around the edges. This ice lacked the beauty of the rest of the castle. This ice was the product of fear.

Loki slammed his fists against the doors in frustration as another scream seeped through the cold, dark night. The only intelligible thought in his mind was that he somehow had to reach Elsa. He summoned his green fire and watched impatiently as it all too slowly ate its way through the ice.

Loki dashed through as soon as there was a big enough gap, and stopped short at the sight he was met with. Elsa lay on her bed, sheets twisted around her rigid body as she writhed beneath them. Her eyes were shut and her face was contorted, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a pained grimace. He rushed forwards, moving lithely around the protrusions of ice that jutted out of the ground. Reaching the bed, he reached out and shook her arm. Receiving no response, he called out to her.

"Elsa," he said, raising his voice to be heard above the maelstrom outside. "Elsa, wake up! Look at me! Elsa!"

Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she stared ahead, wide eyed with terror. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching in her throat.

"Elsa?" Loki said carefully.

She looked at Loki but only managed to hold his gaze for a moment before her face crumpled and tears welled up in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and wept, her breaths now coming in gasps. Loki hesitated, unsure of what to do in this situation. He could not recall ever having to comfort someone as they cried; he had rarely even seen another person cry. However he knew the feeling himself, knew what it was like to have one's own body racked by grief and anger and fear. He had discovered that feeling the day he discovered his true name. _Laufeyson_.

Resolving himself to ease Elsa's burden in any way he could, he moved to sit beside her. He paused, half-expecting her to rebuke his advance. However she surprised him yet again by turning to him and burying her face against his chest.

Loki started, blinking rapidly, with his arms suspended above her delicate frame, unsure of what to do with them. He lowered them slowly, one wrapping around her quivering shoulders, the other cradling her head to him.

"Sshhh," he whispered. "It was just a dream. Everything's alright."

They remained like this, Elsa sobbing quietly, Loki attempting to comfort her as her fingers clenched and unclenched in the fabric of his shirt. Slowly but surely the snow that fell from the ceiling dissipated and the winds buffeting the frosty structure subsided. Eventually, all was quiet again, so that the only sound to reach their ears was that of their own breathing; Loki's deep and even, Elsa's slowing to match his, her heartbeat falling into step with his.

After a while, Elsa's fingers lay unmoving and flat against Loki's chest and he knew she had fallen asleep. He remained where he was.

_After all_, Loki told himself. _It would be inconsiderate of me to risk waking her when she's had such an exhausting night._

But despite this seemingly austere motive, Loki was fighting a battle with himself, deep within the realms of his subconscious. He could feel something stirring in his chest as he sat absently stroking Elsa's pale hair. It was like a gentle tug somewhere inside him. He knew that it was tugging him towards Elsa, but he did not understand why; he had only met her a day ago.

_So then why do I feel as if I _know _her? _Loki thought exasperatedly, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The last few weeks had utterly drained Loki, mentally, physically, but especially emotionally. The last thing he needed was a_ woman_, of all infernal things, weaselling her way into his head. Loki had never been swayed by such sentiments before in his life, but now, when he should have been plotting his revenge upon Asgard, he could not gather his thoughts without that beautifully pale face invading his mind.

It was infuriating, and only served to strengthen his resolve that romantic attachments were a fool's nourishment. And Loki was no fool. That being said, nor was he an ungrateful being. Elsa had been a gracious host, and had trusted him in a way few people ever had – _Or likely ever will again_, he thought bitterly – and so he resisted the urge to push her away.

However, looking down at the soft curves of her body and the way wisps of her snowy hair fell over her peaceful face, Loki found it far more difficult than he would have liked to convince himself that pushing Elsa away was what he wanted to do.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi everyone! So... it's been a while... I apologise for going AWOL like that but the last few months have been incredibly stressful exam-wise :( anyway, I received a lot of messages from you guys asking when the next chapter was due and I just wanted to say thank you for all the support and for staying tuned (I know the wait must have been infuriating). So without further ado, here's chapter 7... I hope it was worth the wait!_

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><p>Loki stood rigid before the ice-mullioned windows and watched as the sun breached the horizon, a pale disk that softened the sky from pitch black to midnight blue and eventually to a hue similar to the morning glory plants that flourished in the palace gardens on Asgard. This was unlike any sunrise Loki had witnessed on Asgard; there were no streaks of crimson or slashes of scarlet, nor did the clouds appear to be laced with gold. It was, however, eerily beautiful in its own way. The shimmering mists were gradually burnt off by the sun and the ice fields were revealed, glinting silver and white in the dawn. Loki found himself oddly transfixed by it. The icy plains of his birth realm were something he had never expected to appreciate, but bathed in such ethereal light, they held his eyes riveted.<p>

He turned away from the window in annoyance. He had caught himself appreciating far too many things lately. Elsa, for one thing, kept barging into his thoughts uninvited. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he knew her somehow, but every time he reached for the memory it dissolved, like a wraith retreating into the shadows. It was extremely inconvenient, he had decided, especially when he should be plotting his revenge against Asgard.

Since his fall he had felt nothing but a kind of barren emptiness, like a pit inside himself that could not be traversed or filled. He could feel something stirring at the bottom of this pit, but he had been too apathetic to reach out to it. But the more time that passed, the more the creature grew, and Loki was able to recognise it for what it truly was: rage. Rage and hurt and betrayal, and with these emotions came the insatiable desire to wreak havoc. He wanted to tear Asgard apart brick by brick for all the misery it had brought him, but for the life of him he couldn't fathom how to achieve such a feat.

The kingdom would be close to impregnable even if he could lead an army right to its gates, but irrespective of that, the Bifrost was destroyed and Loki was painfully conscious of the limits of his powers. Even if he had an army at his disposal, he couldn't sneak all of them into Asgard undetected.

No, if he wanted to strike a blow against Asgard he would have to do it indirectly, in a way that would draw them out. Perhaps if he combined his powers with Elsa's… And just like that, Loki's train of thought was gone. Vanished like leaves in an autumn breeze.

_Pathetic, _he thought bitterly. _No king of Asgard should be so easily swayed by such trivial feelings. I will not sink to Thor's level by allowing some insignificant mortal to become my weakness._

A particularly aggravating voice in the back of his head served to remind him that he was no more a king of Asgard than Elsa was an insignificant mortal, but he only became more frustrated. He ceased his pacing and whipped back around to face the window. He gripped the window frame so tightly that the ridges in his knucklebones became startlingly prominent through his pale skin.

Part of him considered leaving right that moment. Elsa was probably still sleeping, exhausted from the night's trials. Loki knew he was still too weak to teleport, but if he snuck out now he could probably walk several miles away before Elsa noticed his absence. He would certainly be less comfortable in some dank mountain cave, but perhaps distancing himself from his host would give him the chance to properly begin scheming.

His thoughts were scattered by a faint knock at the door. Loki clenched his teeth; he didn't want to see Elsa. He was preparing to shout at her to go away when she spoke.

"May I come in?" she called so softly that any resolve Loki had had to deny her entrance melted away.

He sighed. "Yes."

The door swung open timidly and Elsa stepped across the threshold. She stood almost with her back pressed up against the icy panel, keeping as much distance as she could between them. Loki made no move to close the gap, instead remaining with his hands gripping the window frame, his black hair falling across his face as he peered at her over his shoulder.

Elsa stood awkwardly and refused to meet his eye. Her shoulders were bunched and her fingers were fiddling incessantly with the skirts of her dress. The moaning of the wind whistling through the gullies and valleys below was the only sound to pierce the silence that hung between them like an impermeable fog.

"Something I can help you with?" Loki enquired, keen for her to be gone again.

Elsa bit her lip. "I just wanted to apologise about earlier," she blurted.

"Earlier?" Loki replied evasively.

"You know what I mean. The screaming, the storm, the crying… all of it," she said looking noticeably uncomfortable. She was embarrassed, Loki realised, and expected him to judge her. Despite his best intentions, his heart went out to her.

"You have nothing to apologise for," he mumbled, turning to face her fully.

Elsa released the breath she had been holding. "I also wanted to thank you for… you know –"

"Please," Loki said, holding up a hand. "I only did what anyone would do."

Elsa smiled sadly, the light not reaching her crystalline eyes. "I'm afraid that's not true. I've only ever known one other person to brave one of my storms with the aim of helping me."

Loki paused, briefly considering the possibility that Elsa had a significant other, then realised she meant her sister. "I'm sure I make a poor substitute."

Elsa chuckled, her face momentarily lighting up. "On the contrary, you were much more successful in calming me down. Then again, I was able to wake up from it this time. Last time the nightmare was my reality."

Elsa's countenance sobered once more, her brow furrowing in anguish. Loki paused, his arms itching to cradle her to him and make up for all the pain she had suffered. He resisted the urge, almost wanting to pinch himself for thinking such things. Instead he said, "It must have been a terrible dream."

Elsa looked as though she were about to reply, then took a deep breath and forced a smile. "I'm more interested in the monsters under your bed, Loki of Asgard. You haven't held up your end of our bargain. What's your story?"

Loki laughed, only partly forcedly, and ran his hands through his bedraggled hair. "Gods… I wouldn't know where to start," he admitted.

"Try the beginning," Elsa said moving to the cluster of chairs near where the doors opened onto the balcony. She gestured to one. "May I?"

"Please," he responded levelly. He moved closer but didn't sit, instead choosing to lean casually against the wall opposite Elsa.

He considered her for a moment before continuing. "If I'm not mistaken, Arendelle is a Scandinavian kingdom, is it not?"

Elsa nodded, a look of nostalgia glazing over her eyes momentarily. "Yes. The castle sits on the banks of a fjord in Norway."

"How familiar are you with the myths your country is based on?" Loki enquired.

"I had lessons as a child," Elsa said with a shrug. "Though I'm not sure how much of it I remember. Until the Allfather came to me I'd thought it all to be nothing more than fantasies."

Loki grunted, sounding unimpressed. "No reason you should think otherwise, I suppose. But, nevertheless, you were wrong to think so.

"Asgard – the realm where I grew up – is just as real as Midgard or any of the other seven realms that make up Yggdrasil. Each realm is home to at least one race: there is Alfheim, home to the Light Elves and Svartalfheim, home to their counterparts the Dark Elves; Jotunheim – this realm – home to the Jotunn, or frost giants; Nidavellir, home to the Dvergr, or Dwarves; Niffleheim, realm of the dishonoured dead; Muspelheim, home to the Muspeli, or Fire Demons; Vanaheim, home to the Vanir, the sister race of the Aesir of Asgard; and finally your own realm, where the race of man dwells. Most of that is irrelevant but you might as well know it anyway. I have always found that one can never have too much knowledge."

He paused, momentarily distracted by Elsa's small but bright smile, and then cleared his throat. "You asked about Loki of Asgard, however, and so I will tell you about him.

"I was raised in the palace on Asgard by Odin –"

"You are the son of Odin? Forgive me, I didn't realise!" Elsa said as she stood and tried to curtsy.

Loki waved her off with a grimace. "I said I was raised by Odin, not fathered. We'll come to that later. I was raised by Odin, the man who I always believed and considered to be my father, and my mother, Frigga. I had a brother. His name was –"

"Thor," Elsa interjected with a self-assured nod.

Loki looked at her bewilderedly. "How do you know that?" he demanded.

Elsa's expression became confused and she blinked at Loki from under knitted eyebrows. "I… I'm not sure," she stuttered. "The name just came to me, as though I'd heard it before. I must have remembered it from my lessons."

Loki eyed her suspiciously but continued. "Both my brother and I are young in Asgardian years, though Thor is the elder of us. Our bond was strong; we grew up playing, sparring, learning, and eventually battling side by side, but we were always different. Thor was strong and perfectly at home on the battlefield. I, on the other hand, always felt far more comfortable surrounded by books and knowledge. Thor wielded a hammer; I wielded magic."

"And you always felt that your father disapproved of your use of sorcery, and that he favoured Thor because of it," Elsa said. There was no tone of enquiry in her voice; she spoke as though this were a well-known fact, though of course it was not. These were feelings that Loki kept closest to home, and he was a notoriously difficult man to read. There was simply no way Elsa could know these things, either by word of mouth or intuition.

He advanced towards her, his face deathly calm but his step betraying the tension he felt. Elsa had her head in her hands and was rubbing her temples furiously, as though trying to work through a puzzle in her head.

"If you expect me to believe you learned that from one of your textbooks, you are sorely mistaken," Loki uttered. "Now, I'll ask you again: how do you know that?"

"I don't know," Elsa mumbled apologetically.

"Don't lie to me!" Loki snarled. "I am the god of trickery, it won't work. I've never told anyone that before. I wasn't about to tell you either, so tell me the truth. How do you know these things?"

Elsa jumped to her feet and started pacing in agitation. "I can't explain it," she pleaded. "It will sound ridiculous."

"Try me," Loki insisted frostily.

She put her hand to her forehead and groaned. "It's like… ever since I laid eyes on you yesterday I've had this inexplicable feeling that I know you from somewhere. Everything about you seems familiar. Your eyes, your voice, the way you walk, all of it. And then when you were telling me your story just now… I don't know. It was like I'd heard it all before."

Through this Loki had stopped advancing and was staring at her. He stood stock still, like a viper preparing to strike, but his mind was racing. Surely she was lying. It seemed impossible that she had felt the same thing he had, that they had somehow met before. He wanted to believe her, if only to give his own imaginings some credibility. But on the other hand accepting his instincts as valid meant giving substance to the other feelings he had been developing towards Elsa, and he had already decided that those particular feelings needed to be quashed.

Elsa met Loki's gaze shyly, afraid of what she might see. At first he appeared deep in thought, and in that moment his feelings were displayed before her as clearly as words on a page. She knew, felt it deep in her bones, that he had sensed the same thing. Emboldened, she moved a step closer to him, snapping him out of his reverie.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" Elsa observed.

Loki sneered down at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Now who's lying?" Elsa retorted. "I can see it in your eyes, Loki. I don't know when or where or how, but we've met before. Why do you deny it?"

Loki was becoming increasingly rattled. His hands were curling into fists and his lips were pulled back in a silent snarl. Elsa recognised all of these as signs that what she was saying was having an effect on Loki but did not relent. She was determined to make him admit the truth.

"Why?" she demanded again.

"I deny it because your claims are entirely unfounded!" Loki spat. "I don't know you and I never have. You should certainly not presume to know me, _Your Majesty._ You have no idea who I am or what I have done! If you did, you would not be so eager to claim that we are acquainted, for you would most certainly not like what you found."

Elsa was taken aback by his outburst, but rather than fear the rage burning in his eyes, it gave her cause to pity him. She sensed that tenderness would get nowhere with Loki in his present state, however, and so responded to him with equal ferocity.

"Why not?" she exclaimed.

"BECAUSE I AM A MONSTER!" Loki cried. "A monster who exiled my own brother and abused the power of my father's throne to prove himself otherwise, but it doesn't change what I am."

Elsa had stood her ground through his rant, though every fibre of her being had screamed at her to move away. Tears were rolling down Loki's face and his breaths came in racked heaves. His knees trembled and then buckled underneath him and he hit the floor with a thud before grabbing fistfuls of his hair and making pained noises through gritted teeth.

"And what is that?" Elsa said so softly that she wondered Loki even heard her over the sound of his sobs. But he looked up nevertheless. He dropped his hands to his sides and fixed her with a bloodshot stare.

"A stolen relic," he said, voice hollow and thick with tears. "A monster that parents tell their children about at night."

"Show me," she whispered, desperate to show him that she didn't believe him to be a monster.

Loki regarded her through eyes practically overflowing with anguish. He knew that if Elsa saw his true form she would be disgusted and turn him away. Loki convinced himself that it wouldn't matter; after all, he had been preparing to leave anyway. Still, the thought of seeing the revulsion, the rejection, in her eyes made him sick to his stomach.

_If one with power over ice cannot accept me then there is truly no hope, _he thought to himself darkly. _Perhaps a leap of faith is necessary._

Slowly, with dread in his heart, Loki thought back to that night in the Weapons Vault when he had first taken the Casket of Ancient Winters in his hands and the experienced the transformation. He allowed the same sensations to rush through him now. It started out like a numbness at the base of his spine and then spread outwards the way frost claims a field. He felt his body change, saw as the skin on his hands turned blue and became blemished by ugly puckered whorls. He was disgusted with himself and was therefore entirely free of doubt that Elsa would feel the same, only tenfold. He refused to raise his eyes from the ground and held his breath waiting for Elsa to react.

Elsa stood transfixed as Loki's body morphed into that of a frost giant. He still looked like himself, with the same lean frame and fine features, the same mane of black hair. All that had changed was the colour of his skin, and Elsa had always had a liking for the colour blue.

"You're a Jotun," she remarked, more surprised than anything else.

"Like I said," Loki replied sullenly. "A monster."

When Elsa said nothing more he became frustrated, which in turn fuelled his courage. He raised his eyes to hers, challenging.

"Well?" he demanded. "Aren't you going to say anything? Rebuke me? Cast me out?"

In the next few seconds Loki played out a hundred scenarios in his head, each worse than the last, as to how Elsa would respond. Yet not in all his wildest imaginings did he predict what she would do next.

Elsa's bewildered expression melted away and she fell to her knees beside him, laughing. Loki could not for the life of him comprehend what she found so enjoyable about the matter.

"Wh – why are you laughing? Don't you see me? I'm hideous," he protested weakly, his brow furrowing.

"Of course I see you, you fool. That's just it! Loki, I control ice, it's my curse. Regardless of what anyone else thinks of you, to me, you're beautiful."

She reached out, tried to take his hand, but he pulled away, convinced that she was mocking him. Her acceptance was more than he could ever hope for, and more than he deserved. But he pulled away too quickly and the sudden movement caused pain to lance through his body from where the shard was buried beneath his flesh. Loki cried out in pain, clutching at his shoulder and fighting for consciousness against the wave of dizziness that swept over him.

Elsa ran to him, caught him before he crumpled to the floor. She held onto his arm despite him trying to push her away.

"What was that?" she asked, clearly worried.

"Nothing," Loki growled. "Leave me be."

Elsa glared at him. She was becoming tired of his offhanded manner. "That wasn't nothing." Then, after considering him continued, "Take off your shirt."

"What?" Loki said, head snapping up.

"Take off your shirt," Elsa repeated coolly. "Clearly there's something wrong with your shoulder. Let me take a look."

Loki laughed cruelly. "What could you possibly do to help?"

"Believe it or not, I have a good deal of medical knowledge. No nurses could come near me as a child so I had to rely on books and my own abilities," Elsa replied, earning a surprised glance.

Loki pulled his shirt over his head with obvious hesitation, the muscles of his abdomen bunching as pain blossomed in his shoulder. Elsa swallowed hard, trying to resist the pull she felt towards Loki. She still didn't fully understand why she felt such an attraction to him, for Elsa had never been the type to develop attachments quickly. Many a young prince had come to Arendelle for her coronation with the aim of winning her hand. None had succeeded in even charming her; Elsa was too withdrawn, too unwilling to open herself up to others.

Yet in just under a day, Elsa had experienced all of these things. Loki had charmed her, with his penetrating blue-green eyes and lips that she expected rarely revealed genuine pleasure and yet had smiled for her. And his mind had seemed so in sync with hers that she had opened up to him without even meaning to.

Elsa was not her sister. Anna was confident and endearing and altogether too trusting. In many ways Elsa envied her these qualities as even though they were what had brought Prince Hans into their lives they had also allowed Anna to find happiness with Kristoff. Elsa hadn't been able to get to know Kristoff in the short time she had had before Odin came for her, but seeing the way Anna looked at him was all Elsa needed to develop a high opinion of him.

Elsa had refused to bless a union between her sister and Hans because, though Anna's affection towards him had been real, it was not deep, nor was it true. Elsa had wanted more for her little sister, and she had found that with Kristoff. A warmth had blossomed in her stomach each time she beheld them together.

Elsa had come to fear that she would never find such happiness, but that same feeling stirred in the core of her being now as she gazed at Loki.

Loki felt warm also, but it was a different kind of warmth. A flush spread up his neck as Elsa's eyes raked over his exposed chest. He immediately berated himself for feeling so self-conscious, and stood a little taller. His embarrassment was short lived, however, as her eyes only lingered on his lean torso for a few moments before drifting over the width of his shoulders and to his upper arm.

Her eyes widened as she noticed Loki's cuff. "Where did you get that?" she whispered.

Loki blinked, following her gaze. "This?" he asked, gesturing at the golden circlet. "It was a gift from my mother. Why?"

"The token in the centre," she went on, still in hushed tones. "Is it stone?"

"No," Loki said slowly. "I believe it's ice."

Loki heard Elsa gulped, wondered why she was acting so strange. "Why did your mother give it to you?" Elsa implored.

Loki thought he saw where this was going, but indulged her anyway. "She never told me, although now that I know the truth of my lineage, I'm inclined to believe she intended it to be a kind of metaphor. The ice set in gold representing a frost giant amongst Asgardians. It is just the kind of thing my mother would do, to try to convince me that being different does not hinder my own beauty, or that of others around me. Why do you ask?"

Elsa hesitated. Loki's face had taken on an expression of tenderness and yearning such as Elsa had never seen him wear before. She half considered not revealing her suspicions to him so as not to risk corrupting his opinion of his mother. Elsa decided she wouldn't say anything before she was absolutely certain, so when Loki spoke again she only held out her hand and said, "May I see it?"

Loki eyed her suspiciously for a moment before deciding she had no wicked intentions. At his touch the cuff sprung open just wide enough for him to slide it over his toned forearms. He handed it to Elsa with a warning look. It was unnecessary; Elsa could see this cuff meant a great deal to Loki and so she wouldn't dream of damaging it.

She took the ornament in her hands gently and ran her fingers over the cool metal, feeling the etched swirls dance beneath her touch. She hesitated before touching the ice token, which was startlingly familiar and yet altogether alien. The strands of blue and white that ran entwined through the flawless crystal called to her, as if from a past life.

Elsa allowed her fingertips to brush the smooth wintry surface, and suddenly, somewhere deep in her mind, a wall that had been slowly cracking came crashing down and a wave of suppressed memories rushed at her like tidal wave. They broke over her head and she was swept away in their vigorous embrace. Elsa clutched the cuff tighter as she sunk downwards into the darkness of unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I have a couple of things to say before we get started... Firstly, sorry for the delay in posting this. It's been finished for a while but I was on holiday in the middle of nowhere in France and there was no internet connection anywhere. It was torturous. On the bright side it means that I've already made a start on the next instalment so you should have that soon hopefully. The second thing is just to say thank you to all of you who are taking the time to read (and hopefully enjoy) this story, and also to everyone who leaves a review. I really appreciate all of them and they make the writing feel that much more rewarding. I reply to as many of them as I can but to those of you who are guests or otherwise have disabled the PM setting on your account, this is me saying thanks!**

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><p>For a brief few moments, Elsa was lost in darkness, helpless as she fell deeper and deeper into the throes of oblivion. The blackness surrounding her was absolute, pressing in on her until she felt as though she were drowning in it. Though she could see nothing, Elsa sensed that she was tumbling, whirling out of control. The sensation built until her stomach churned and her head felt foggy because of it. Her arms flailed like she was trying to swim, but it did little good. She continued to spiral downwards, but the longer it went on, the more Elsa felt sure that it was not her that was spinning, but her surroundings. She tried to focus, tried to make it stop, but the more she strained herself, the more tumultuous her thoughts became. Flurries of broken images flashed menacingly in the gloom, called forth from the depths of her mind, but before Elsa could pin any one of them down to analyse it, it vanished.<p>

She saw the vaulted ceilings and gilded corridors of Arendelle Castle and Anna standing in mourning garb before her parents' portrait. Elsa longed to reach out to her, to comfort her sister now, though this particular memory was years old and no amount of contrition on Elsa's part could change the fact that she had been too afraid to go to Anna when it could have made a difference. At any rate, the image was gone and a new one had taken its place before Elsa could lift a finger. She saw the view of the fjord from her bedroom window; felt the bite of the cold as winter winds buffeted the peak of the North Mountain; heard Olaf giggle and gush about the joys of summer; all things so familiar to her that the memories could have been real, so vivid were the details her mind conjured up.

_But not real enough._

Elsa's frustration grew until it threatened to bubble over. How was it fair that despite all her suffering, even after all her efforts to keep her people safe, she came to be exiled, left alone to be taunted so by memories of those she loved. Unlike some sorcerers and elementals, her powers had not been taught or bestowed upon her; she had never had the benefit of tutelage because no one had ever known what to make of her abilities. No one, that is, except the trolls, but after the _incident_ she had been forbidden to even leave the confinement of her room, let alone the palace walls, and the trolls left their mountain dwelling for no one, not even a princess. So she had grown up deprived of any company that might have provided some respite from her interminable battle against the storm that raged within her.

_Or had she._

Something scratched at the back of her mind, an incessant niggle that hinted at something revelatory. Elsa squeezed her eyes tightly shut and focused on expanding her mind, tendrils of consciousness reaching out, probing cautiously, curiously at the thought that irked her so. She felt herself growing close to the truth and excitement swelled in her chest like a caged bird unfurling its vast span of plumage as it prepared to take flight. This secret-that-should-not be-a-secret, so clandestinely buried in her own mind, called out to her. Elsa got the feeling that she had waited a very long time to discover whatever this secret was.

Elsa gently took hold of the tantalising morsel and it responded in kind all too vigorously. The truth surged forth and locked her in a stranglehold, robbing her of breath. As suddenly as the tide turns, the veil that had obscured parts of her history from her was ripped from her eyes with an alacrity that made Elsa gasp in spite of her breathlessness. So strong was her newfound conviction that a bright white light surged up around her, a conflagration of icy luminescence to chase away the shadows that crowded her.

Elsa felt rather than saw her surroundings change, temporarily blinded as she was by the intensity of the light. She blinked, frowning as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. When the white haze cleared behind her eyelids, Elsa gazed around, hoping to see something recognisable that would give her some clue as to where her wandering thoughts had taken her now, for she now felt sure that she was dreaming. To her dismay, the landscape she now found herself in was as inscrutable in its blankness as the previous one had been in its darkness. The only real difference was that now Elsa could feel ground beneath her feet and air on her face. Before there had just been... _nothing_.

She turned on the spot, eyes scanning the vacuous space almost desperately, but wherever she looked was alabaster, with no end and no beginning. Only the feeling of solidity beneath her feet indicated that Elsa was in fact _somewhere_.

_But where?_ she growled inwardly. She was losing her patience. This was her own mind, was it not? There was very little that Elsa had had control over in her life, but she intended to retain the right to decide what went on inside her own damn head. Elsa felt the familiar tingle in her fingertips that meant her icy powers were stirring, but rather than succumbing to the temptation to let them flow through her unchecked, she suddenly had the inexplicable urge to hit something instead.

As if in answer to her silent conniption, a sound broke the oppressive silence, faint and muffled, but unmistakably there. Elsa focused on it with all the will she could muster and the sound became clearer. It sounded like someone crying, muttering something between shaky breaths.

_"Conceal, don't feel... Conceal, don't feel..."_

Elsa's eyes widened perceptibly as she recognised the words as well as the tremulous voice that spoke them. _Her _voice.

A scene began to take shape and Elsa could clearly make out the familiar sight of her old bedroom. It was just as she remembered. There was the wall made up of shelf upon shelf of books, all read so many times that Elsa felt she could recall each and every title; the floor to ceiling windows, fingers of sunlight reaching through the icy panes to bathe the plush blue carpet in soft grey light; the huge bed made even more cavernous by the azure drapes of the canopy, now twinkling like the night sky under a dusting of light frost.

Viewed like this, Elsa could almost see the beauty in her abilities, but when she caught sight of herself, a black mound huddled fearfully against the far wall, unceasing in her utterance of the mantra her father had repeated to her constantly, all positive thoughts vanished from Elsa's mind. _I remember this_, she thought grimly as she spied the mourning garb. _I remember this all too clearly._

It was a day or two after news had returned to Arendelle of her parents' deaths and Anna had just come looking for Elsa, no doubt seeking the sisterly comfort that Elsa craved more than anything else, and yet was unable to give or receive for fear of harming her sister. Any minute now, Odin would appear and offer her both commiseration for the past and warnings for the future should she allow her grief to manifest in a way that posed any threat to the realm.

Elsa frowned as she stood there watching herself. Why of all her memories had her unconscious mind conjured up this one? She knew it well enough already; it plagued her by day often enough without it appearing in her dreams too. She had felt so sure that whatever she had caught hold of in the darkness had been something new and illuminating, but truth be told this was a little... _disappointing_.

However to Elsa's surprise, when the door to her chambers opened soundlessly, the person who entered was not the Allfather, but a woman. She stood erect as only one of royalty could, and her attire was only further confirmation of that assumption. Fiery orange silks hugged her womanly shape, which was apparent even despite the fact that a wrinkle or two creased her otherwise porcelain features. Chestnut hair streamed down her back in rivulets and she regarded the cowering Elsa with bottomless blue eyes that shone with grace and fidelity and wisdom.

_A mother,_ Elsa decided at once from her vantage point by the window. She was now standing in rapt attention, thinking that she might be about to learn something new after all.

Elsa watched the exchange with interest, gasping when the woman said her name was Frigga. _Loki's mother!_ Though Elsa supposed she was not his true mother. All the same, Loki clearly loved her more dearly than anyone else on Asgard and so Elsa regarded the woman with more respect and admiration than perhaps was due considering she was still by all accounts a stranger.

Elsa paused for a moment to consider her motivations for such feelings. Clearly it had to do with her affiliation with Loki, but Elsa was either too innocent or too stubborn to delve deeper into the matter. She brushed the thoughts aside. _I only want to understand why I feel as though I know him._

She looked on, astonished at how gentle and understanding Frigga was. _So different from Odin, with his sharp tongue and tactless threats_. Elsa felt a small tug in her chest as she considered just how badly she had needed someone like Frigga to guide her through childhood. Instantly she felt guilty, as though she were forsaking her own mother. The queen had done her very best for her eldest daughter, and had been strong for her husband and second-born right until her dying day, but she had not known what to do about Elsa any more than had any of the masters and mages she had sent for from the furthest reaches of the known world.

Her thoughts were scattered and she was pulled back to reality (well, almost reality) when she heard the Queen of Asgard mention a familiar name.

"Loki..." Elsa breathed as the door was pushed open for the second time and a young man with raven hair and jade eyes crossed the threshold.

For the most part Loki looked as Elsa knew him to look. He had the same fine young features and lean build, the same penetrating gaze and easy, languid gait. But despite all the aesthetic parallels, there was definitely something different about this version of Loki, though Elsa could not put her finger on it.

She continued to observe, letting the scene play out. The longer Elsa watched, the more familiar it all seemed to her, and she felt her mind begin to coalesce with that of her younger self, her emotions all aligning dutifully. She felt the same unease when first presented with a stranger; the cautious delight when she realised that Loki was someone she could confide in; relief after her burdens had been allayed; awe at Loki's demonstrations of his own powers; pity, gratitude, fascination, _hope_. Elsa felt it all. It pained her that somehow, unbeknown to her, she had been deprived of such beautiful memories.

Elsa was almost disappointed when Frigga returned, signalling that the memory was almost over. She watched the exchange of tokens with wide eyes, suddenly recalling the smooth ice-like gem set into Loki's cuff and revelling in her newfound understanding of its significance.

At the thought of Loki (the _real_ Loki) Elsa felt a tug deep within her. Slowly the ground began to slip away beneath her feet. Though she fought to stay grounded, she could not resist the force pulling her upwards, away from her blissful reverie. She stole one last look at herself and the young Loki and was shocked to see him gently brush away a wisp of her hair and press his lips to hers.

All too soon, the world began to return to darkness. As the shadows wrapped themselves around her once more, Elsa thought she heard someone whisper something into the void. She felt her awareness dimming and so made a final, desperate attempt to make out the message. Six words drifted to her ears through the blackness.

_"Until next time, my ice queen..."_

* * *

><p>Elsa's eyes fluttered open, the tender touch of memory still playing at the edges of her mind, Loki's whispered words hanging in the air around her like fruit waiting to be plucked.<p>

She pushed herself onto one elbow, grimacing as a wave of nausea washed over her. Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat, Elsa noted that she was still in Loki's chambers, though at some point during her spell of unconsciousness he had moved her to the bed and swathed her in blankets.

The swaddling seemed a little officious to her at first (after all, she did not feel the cold) but when she reached up from beneath the blankets to brush a stray hair from her eyes, her arm became covered with gooseprickles and she shuddered. With a frown Elsa pressed her palm to her forehead and was shocked to find that the skin felt clammy and feverish. She sat up straighter, but the movement was too sudden and her head swam. A faint whimper escaped her lips and something stirred on the far side of the room. Loki had been hunched over the empty hearth, his hand resting on the mantelpiece, and his head pressed against the back of his wrist. The light was failing outside and the Asgardian's dark hair and attire had allowed him to blend so well with the lengthening shadows that Elsa had not noticed him, but at the sound of movement he turned to face her.

It was all she could do not to gasp. Elsa had thought that Loki's features were uncommonly fine, and so they were, but until now she had had naught to measure them against. The man that stood before her was but a shadow of the youthful one from her dream. _No,_ she corrected herself sharply. _Not a dream, a memory. One I must not forget this time._

The difference that Elsa had perceived in the younger Loki but not understood now became clear to her: this Loki was broken. Though no more than a few years had passed between then and now, the Loki from her memory was a green boy by comparison. He had yet to know true pain or fear, had still to discover the truth of his heritage, and receive the devastating blow that everything he had ever known was a lie; that the kingdom he had seen fit to call his home and his birth right had been little more than a cage to keep him returning to his own kin, a race whom everyone he had grown to love despised and reviled. To protect him from the fearful gazes of those around him, he had even been given false skin.

The Loki of memory had seen himself as a prince; the Loki who stood before her saw himself as a monster.

Elsa's fingers itched to reach out to him, if for no other reason than because she understood his agony. But instead of leaping out of bed to embrace him, she remained still.

"You're awake," Loki said, his voice so flat and weary that he could have been making an observation about the weather.

Elsa bit her lip. "How long have I been unconscious?" she asked. She was sure that it could not have been for any extraordinary length of time but she knew not what else to say. _You mean you're afraid you might say something stupid,_ called a voice from somewhere inside her head. She ignored it.

Loki regarded her strangely, as if deciding whether or not to reveal a secret. Then, with a sigh he said, "Almost three days."

"What?" Elsa sat bolt upright, regardless of how her body protested. "But I only fainted! I can't have been out for that long, surely..." She trailed off. She thought back to what had transpired after she blacked out. The memory itself hadn't taken more than an hour to play out, but Elsa couldn't say how much time she had passed in the darkness beforehand. Then something occurred to her. "You're still here," she said. "You stayed."

For a moment Loki looked confused. "Yes," he responded simply.

For some reason her stomach did somersaults at the word. Elsa kept her expression measured, however. If she had learned anything of Loki since their (second) meeting, it was that seeking to draw close to him almost invariably only served to drive him further away. _Like me._ The thought made Elsa sad for a moment, but she didn't understand why his remote nature should make her feel so, and she pushed the thought aside.

_You _do_ know why,_ came the voice again.

_What is that supposed to mean?_ she shot back in annoyance.

_Admit it,_ the voice crowed. _You _want_ to be close to him._

_I do not!_ Elsa declared hotly, but then she suddenly recalled the feeling of his lips brushing against hers, his fingertips grazing her temple, and a blush crept up her neck. She hoped desperately that it wasn't noticeable, but she was such a pale thing that all hoping was futile.

"Is your fever getting worse?" Loki asked, a hint of worry creeping into his tone. He moved swiftly to the bedside and crouched. Elsa held still as stone as he reached out a hand to press against her forehead.

Even from afar Elsa had immediately noticed that Loki was not his usual self. He had appeared slightly stooped, perhaps a little tired. Now that he was at close quarters Elsa saw that the reality was in fact much worse. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and dark circles hung beneath them like storm clouds; his hair had lost its luscious gleam and was in desperate need of a good combing; his clothes seemed a little bigger on him than she remembered. She immediately castigated herself for being so stupid. Of course he looked so haggard, he'd had no food in three whole days.

When Odin had exiled her, he had taken certain measures to ensure her comfort. She needed only think of food and it would appear by some sorcery he had had embedded in the castle. The furnishings were all his as well, though being aware of her 'skills in construction,' as he hadput it, the structure itself he had left up to Elsa. But, of course, she had not been thinking of food whilst she was unconscious, and so Loki was likely half starved.

She took Loki's hand in hers and lowered it back to the mattress where his other was splayed. "I'm alright," she assured him with a soft smile. He gave her a dubious look. "A little humiliated, to be sure. Fainting like some delicate swooning maiden, how embarrassing," she lamented. "But rest easy, I am well, save my wounded pride."

Loki quirked the corner of his mouth up in a grudging half-smile, and Elsa found herself fascinated with the way his lips were both soft and hard, full and thin. Clearly she stared too intently and for too long, because Loki cleared his throat and retreated. Elsa almost laughed. _What did I expect? I'd have done the same._

Silence reigned for a few uncomfortable moments. Loki had his back to her again, but he turned his head slightly and said, "What happened?"

Elsa shifted uncomfortably. She knew what had happened, but she still did not fully understand it. Why did it require her to touch the token she had given to Loki in order to regain her memories? More to the point, why had the memory been taken in the first place? And by whom? There were so many questions, but in that instant all Elsa could think was, _I don't want you to know what happened. If I told you the truth you'd either laugh at me or hate me and I don't think that I could bear either._

She took too long in answering, and Loki turned to face her fully, suspicion brimming in his beautiful eyes.

_Hells,_ Elsa chastised herself. _What's happened to me? I can't go five minutes without admiring something about the man._ It was absurd; Elsa must have been approached by at least a dozen handsome high-born men with offers of marriage at her coronation ceremony, but for all their charms and graces she had turned the lot of them away without batting an eyelid. _And I can be sure that none of those little lordlings were half so damaged as this man, even if his eyes are so very beautiful._

He repeated the question. "I can tell you know something, if not everything. No, don't try to deny it, I can see it in your eyes." Elsa took a deep breath to steel herself for what had to be said. Evidently she could not lie to him. As if to confirm that latest realisation, Loki said, "Don't worry. I won't get angry, whatever it is."

Elsa blinked at him. "Am I so easy to read?"

He shrugged. "I just assumed. I was... less than pleasant, shall we say, during our last talk." He seemed to be finished, but then he blurted, "And for that I'm truly sorry." He fixed her with a gaze so intense a blind man would have been able to see the plea for forgiveness that his eyes sang of. _He still thinks himself a monster,_ she realised. _And he expects me to see the same. But I don't... How can I make him understand?_

Elsa shook her head vigorously. "You can ask my forgiveness if you like, but you shan't get it." She thought her heart might break at his forlorn look which was so tragically uncharacteristic and so she hurried on without pausing for breath. "I might as well toss coppers at a king's feet; it would be more a slight than a gift, for he does not need it."

He seemed confused, so she elaborated. "The last time we spoke, you showed me your true form and told me that you were a monster, but all I saw was Loki of Asgard, still. Yes, you had blue skin and red eyes, but you were, and are, the same person." She tilted her head. "And so far I've seen nothing of Loki to warrant him being labelled a monster. You're just a man who felt too deeply and fell too far."

It was Loki's turn to shake his head. "How can you be so..."

"What?" Elsa probed softly.

He chuckled. "I was going to say 'understanding,' but that doesn't even begin to cover it." Elsa smiled wearily and patted the bed, indicating that he should join her. She half expected him to frown and put another pace between them, but Loki was either too tired or too polite to argue and so he seated himself on the edge of the mattress.

"When I was a girl," she began, "no one saw my powers as a threat. I was a child who could make it snow at will, where was the harm in that? Some even went so far as to say I was blessed. After the accident with Anna, however, that all changed. I was locked away like some wild animal. Even my parents feared me, though they tried their best to hide it. I knew though, and the knowledge ate away at me every single day." She paused and drew her knees up to her chin to cover her chest, behind which her heart felt as though it were being eaten all over again. Only when her arms were locked tightly around them did she feel strong enough to continue. "I tried to prove to them that I wasn't bad, that I could control it, but the more time went by, the more I started to believe what I saw in the eyes of all the serving maids and doormen and kitchen boys, few as they were since my parents sent most of the staff away. Before I was even old enough to know the real meaning of the word, I had decided that I was a monster." She looked up at Loki through thick lashes. "How could I hate you for judging yourself the same way I judged myself?"

There was such warmth in Loki's eyes all of a sudden where before there had been only pain, like sunbeams breaking through a bank of dismal clouds. He reached out his hand again, this time cupping her cheek in his palm. His thumb traced her cheekbone and his eyes bored into hers for a moment before drifting to her lips, just as hers had done a few minutes before. _He's going to kiss me,_ Elsa thought. Then, _Don't be ridiculous, he wouldn't even sit next to you without you telling him to._ Her heart fluttered frantically anyway, though whether for excitement or dread she could not have said.

It was almost a disappointment to her when Loki sighed and lowered his hand. "How anyone could think you a monster, I will never understand."

Elsa filled her lungs with brisk mountain air. It nipped at her throat as she sucked it in, but the cold was welcome and it gave her the courage she needed to say the next few words. Still, when she spoke her voice was scarcely a whisper. "You've told me as much before, you know."

Loki's brow furrowed, trying to recall when such words had passed his lips. Finding that he had no recollection of any such event, he begged her explain.

"You may recall during our last, er, _chat_ I said some things about feeling as though we had met before somehow..."

Loki groaned. "Not this again. Elsa, I told you, I have no memory of you before I walked into your castle five days ago."

"But you felt it too, didn't you?" she demanded. He looked away from her but Elsa was not to be deterred. "_Didn't you?_ Don't lie to me, Loki. You're as easy to read for me as I am for you. I _know_ you felt it."

"I felt it," he conceded, but the lost, doleful look was in his eyes again. "But I don't understand it."

"Nor do I, really," Elsa admitted. "Not fully anyway, but I learned some things when I was unconscious." Loki cocked an eyebrow at her, clearly unconvinced. She nodded to the slight bulge on Loki's upper arm where her ice token was laid in gold. "It was because of that."

"This?" he said, feeling it through the fabric of his shirt. "I know you collapsed when you touched it but how can this have anything to do with it, Elsa? This was a gift from -"

"From your mother, yes I know. I also know that she has long chestnut hair and eyes so blue and bottomless, yet so full of kindness that you feel as though you could fall into them without drowning. I know that she can make images dance through the air and that her wisdom and understanding is so great that at times it seems she's reading your mind, but you never feel exposed or violated, just... safe."

"How can you know all that?" Loki asked, astounded.

"Because I've met her."

"When? Why did you never tell me?"

Elsa sighed. There was no turning back now. "Because until I touched that cuff of yours I did not remember."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Woohoo! I kept my promise and got this to you guys in under a week (although technically it's after midnight here, but we'll ignore that...) So, I always find that listening to music is a great motivator when writing, particularly when inspiration is running low. For a while now I've been toying with the idea of posting the names of songs that I think are appropriate to the chapter in my author's notes. I haven't done so thus far purely because it seemed kind of, well... lame? But anyway, then I remembered that in my copy of _The Host_ by Stephanie Meyer, she does the exact same thing, and it got me thinking, if a best selling author can do it, why can't I? (That was rhetorical, I know there are a thousand reasons why, but that's irrelevant.) So I'm going to start doing it. I'll post them at the end of each chapter so as to avoid any possible spoilers. I understand that music is an intensely personal thing, so many of you might not get the connections I make in my head. Sometimes it's the whole song, sometimes a specific lyric, sometimes even just the general feel of the song. It goes without saying that if you don't want to get any more familiar with the workings of my brilliant (stupid) mind, then just don't pay any attention to it, but for those of you who are interested in familiarising yourselves with my awesome (weird) taste in music, that's great! By the way, the song I had in my head when I was writing Elsa's dreaming scene in the last chapter was _Days to Come _by Seven Lions. **

**Now, without further ado, I give you chapter nine...**

* * *

><p>Loki paced the length of his bedchamber, his legs swallowing the distance with a restlessness akin to a lion. The ice hummed with every footfall and the wind outside screamed as it lashed against the mountainside, but all sounds fell on deaf ears. Loki's mind reeled and writhed, unable to focus on anything other than the events that had just transpired.<p>

Elsa had returned to her own chambers in order to give Loki time to mull over all she had told him, and also to eat. She had left him with copious amounts of food after shyly observing to him that he looked terrible. He had bridled a little at that, but could not deny it. Three days without sustenance had left his already lean figure well on the way to becoming skeletal. In that time he had hardly slept for worrying about Elsa. Any sleep he did manage to scrounge had been fitful and plagued by nightmares. On the first night he had dreamed that he and Elsa were seated at a grand trestle table laden with more food than a man could eat in a lifetime, but every time one of them ate, the other became more and more gaunt, until they eventually starved. After that he had barely had an hour of unbroken rest.

For the longest time Loki had done naught but stare warily at the pilings of food, the image of Elsa's withered form springing unbidden to his mind whenever he went to eat. But for every minute he held out, his hunger grew more difficult to suppress. He finally broke after an hour of torment, with the smell of fresh bread and roast fowl filling his nostrils, but even with a full belly Loki's insides still felt pinched and taut. He just couldn't relax, especially after hearing Elsa's ridiculous tale.

_But is it ridiculous?_ Loki thought. He had to admit that parts of her story had seemed familiar to him in an abstract sort of way. He felt as though he were staring into a bank of heavy fog trying to catch a glimpse of something that he instinctively knew was on the other side, but the harder he tried to see through it, the more he could see nothing but grey, swirling and concealing.

_Smoke and mirrors, that's what this is. Smoke and mirrors. I can't even see the ground beneath my feet.  
><em>  
>He threw himself down on the bed in frustration. None of it made sense. It was true that he had felt some kind of connection with Elsa, but by now Loki had grudgingly accepted his attraction to her and had disregarded such feelings as a side effect of that, nothing more. But now Elsa's dream gave him pause. He had told himself again and again that it was just that - a <em>dream<em> - but there had been no lie in Elsa's eyes. Her conviction was so strong that it had seeped into him just while she was relating the tale to him. Left to brood like this, it was almost enough to convince him.

_Don't be a fool,_ he berated himself. _You would remember if you had met her before. Gods know she is not the type of person one simply forgets._

He found himself mapping out her features in his mind. Her crystalline eyes held him transfixed, but he knew what lay around them well enough; the delicate nose and full, pink lips, her slender neck held slightly atilt so that her snowy braid draped over a polished ivory shoulder.

"No," Loki murmured aloud. "I would not forget that face."

_But what if I did?_ If what Elsa had told him was true then perhaps it was entirely possible. She had forgotten him as well, after all, and only remembered him when she touched the token. Loki had no qualms in admitting the peculiarity of that detail. Whether the things Elsa saw whilst unconscious were real or not, it made no sense that she would react so violently to the cuff if it were only a mere trinket...

Loki stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. He whipped his head back and forth aggressively, shaking off the probing hands of sleep. There was still too much to be puzzled out. With another shake of his head, he forced himself to pick up his train of thought again.

...And then there was the _way_ the alleged memories came back to her; all in a rush, as though they had been buried or suppressed. That made even less sense to Loki. From what Elsa had told him, these memories were happy ones. _Some of the happiest she has, I'd say. But people don't suppress happy memories. Not willingly, anyway._

The thought that Loki had been toying with for some time now loomed in the back of his mind. _Magic,_ it called. _Magic wouldn't require the person to be willing._ He had to admit it was a likely argument. So long as the bond wasn't long-standing or well-established, it wasn't particularly difficult to alter someone's memory to make them forget another person. There was also the rather condemnatory fact that when Elsa had first broached her suspicions to Loki, he had felt the familiar thrill building within him that hinted at the presence of sorcery. He had shrugged it off at the time as a pathetically boyish reaction to Elsa admitting that she had felt the same pull as he had. Now though...

Magic certainly seemed to be the only logical explanation, but simply acknowledging that fact didn't reveal to Loki why anyone would _want_ to tinker with their minds and make the pair forget one another. What harm could possibly come from them being together?

_There's only one way to find out,_ Loki thought, trying and failing to suppress another yawn. _I need to get my memories back._

With a heavy heart he realised that he hadn't the slightest idea how to do that. His own magic should have been strong enough to reverse the spell, but without knowing who cast it or what exactly they did whilst they were inside his head, it was virtually impossible. In fact, he might end up exacerbating the effects, and make himself forget that he was trying to remember what he had already forgotten. He shuddered. Mind manipulation could get horribly confusing. He preferred to do his manipulation from the outside, with a suggestive remark, a coy look, oh, and reverse psychology. _That_ was fun, especially on Thor, who made it so delightfully easy. _He almost started a war with the Jotuns just because I told him not to, the oaf.  
><em>  
>Returning to the problem at hand, Loki went over all he knew of how Elsa's memories were regained. Clearly she had sensed them (or, rather, their absence) almost immediately after their meeting, as he had. But it took her touching the token she had supposedly given to Loki before they parted ways for them to return fully. Perhaps the token was the key.<p>

_But I've touched the cuff hundreds of times, even after I met Elsa, and it never affected me in any way._ Then he recalled that Elsa had said he also gave her something; a flame, one of his green ones. Maybe it had to be the token that they gave, rather than the one they received.

_Ah. Yet another problem._ Elsa said she had no knowledge of the flame's whereabouts. Unlike her token of ice, Loki's little green blaze had not lingered in plain sight after her memories had been lost. He had given her nothing else. Except...

_No,_ he thought with firm resolve, while at the same time another part of him cried, _Why not?_

_No!_ he repeated, pulse quickening. _I will not kiss her! I will not allow Elsa to become a weakness. I won't do it._

_You were close enough an hour ago,_ his unhelpful little voice grumbled. _Besides, you saw the way she looked at you. You know she wouldn't complain._

Yes, he had seen, and emulated her behaviour just minutes later. Odin's beard, he had come so close to losing himself, he knew, after Elsa had talked about seeing herself as a monster. Her eyes had been so full of sorrow. It had taken every inch of his will power not to grab her and crush her delicate frame against his, to silence her mouth with his and press her into the mattress. _So close. The gods only know how close._

That closeness scared him, truth be told. He had never craved intimacy, never truly lusted after a woman the way he had seen his brother do countless times. In fact the thought had always repelled him; he had seen what such folly did to Thor, and had no desire for those same consequences to befall himself. But _Elsa_... She was another matter entirely. He had half a mind to seek her out right now, consequences be damned, but the part of his mind that was still thinking clearly shooed his fatuous thoughts swiftly away.

_She does not know me,_ he argued. _Not truly. If she did she would not seem so willing. She may call herself a monster, but one as gentle as her cannot begin to comprehend the things I have done. The things I still plan to do..._

But her lips would not leave his thoughts, irrespective of how hard he tried to force them away. They always came back, hovering over him like a rosebuds. _So beautiful,_ he mused sleepily. _Yet no doubt covered in thorns. I'll certainly get cut if I venture too close._

The effort of warring against his own subconscious took its toll on Loki, who was already bone-weary from the ordeals of the past three days. Within minutes, darkness began to encroach on the fringes of his vision as his eyelids threatened to sidle closed. His surroundings became blurred and would not come back into focus no matter how he struggled. With one last weary sigh he succumbed, flopping back onto his pillows like a limp fish. His last coherent thought before he gave himself up to sleep was of Elsa's lips, and how sweet they would taste against his own.

* * *

><p>The sound of his footsteps rang hollow in his ears. Carved doors yawned cavernously around him, and soaring pillars of elegantly hewn gold flanked him as he stepped further into the room. Loki had always been acutely aware of the enormity of the Asgardian throne room, but never before had he felt so small upon entering it. Sunlight streamed in through windows set high in the walls, bouncing through the room and turning every surface to molten gold. <em>So much gold, <em>Loki thought meekly. _I am a glacier, floating in a sea of gold._

The floor beneath his feet was blinding, but he kept his eyes cast downwards nonetheless, squinting. He could not steel himself to raise his eyes to where the dais rose resplendent, for fear that his false father would be sat enthroned there.

A disembodied voice called out to him from nowhere, a voice that was infinitely familiar to him. "Loki," said Frigga. "You must always keep it hidden…"

Her voice began to dissipate into echoes, but Loki did not wait for the hall to fall silent before replying. "Mother? Where are you? _Mother! _I don't understand. What must I keep hidden?" His voice was brimming with anguish, but no figure emerged from the shadows, and no voice gave answer to his plea.

Loki's mind reeled as he tried to fathom the meaning behind the Asgardian queen's words. He gazed intently into the shadows in an attempt to locate the figure of the woman that he had always gone to for comfort and wisdom in the years of his youth, but his efforts were met by aught but gloom. On the peripheral of his vision he thought he glimpsed movement, but when he spun to face it, whatever had stirred was gone. An involuntary shudder racked his frame, and he knew that whatever had been lurking in the shadows was not his mother, but something far more sinister, and altogether unwanted. _Odin,_ he thought immediately, but even as the name crossed his mind he knew it was not right.

More than ever before he longed for Frigga to take him in her arms as she used to when he was just a boy. She would stroke his hair and murmur soothing words to him until all his worries had dissolved like smoke in the wind. One day not too long ago, Loki would have scoffed at his so called troubles. '_Dilemmas' of the heart barely warrant such a title, _he would have said. Now though, he felt as though he had the weight of Mjolnir pressing down on him.

"Mother…" he whispered, childlike.

"Why do you speak to the shadows?" a voice boomed. Loki whipped around to face the speaker, heart pounding at the base of his throat.

Odin stood off to the side of the throne, feet planted in his customary solid stance, one hand gripping Gungnir, his omnipresent spear. The king's one eye bore into Loki, his blue iris menacing and terrible and glinting in time with the golden patch that covered his missing eye. _More gold. I do not belong here. This is the only home I have ever known, and I do not belong here._

Loki tried to answer, but his mouth was dry as parchment, and he could not speak. Instead, in a bid to unlock his gaze from Odin's, his eyes flicked to the nearest point of focus: the throne. Odin frowned down at him. "You covet what can never be yours."

"I never wanted the throne!" Loki hissed, his temper flaring up like a cobra. "I never wanted to rule. I only ever wanted to be Thor's equal. For _you _to see me as his equal."

"As I said, you covet what can never be yours. You are not his equal, and never will be. You are not of Asgard."

"The woman you married is not of Asgard!" Loki protested. "Your wife is of the Vanir, _Allfather,_ will you deny that?"

"Frigga is descended from a noble race. Her people are peaceful and wise. Your kin, _Laufeyson_, are savages. By rights you are no better. You will never be equal to one of mine own blood."

Some small part of him tried to reason that this was a dream, that the real Odin would never say such things. _It's a lie, _his little voice cried. _There is evil in this dream. Something pollutes your mind while you sleep. You must wake up!_ But the anguish that bubbled up within threatened to consume him. Loki had to have answers.

"Then why did you save me?" he demanded. "Why not leave me out on the ice to freeze as a child?"

"I have told you why," Odin said dismissively.

Loki barked a short, humourless laugh. "Yes, to forge an alliance between our realms when I came of age. But, pray tell me this, _father_, why would you want to be allied with a race of _savages_?" He spat the last word out with as much contempt as he could muster. "Or are you referring to the other reason you gave me? That I was just a poor little babe, stranded, abandoned, dying. Oh yes, Odin the Merciful, that sounds familiar. Odin the Sentimental." Odin's frown was deepening by the second. "You cannot have been so touched by my innocence, father, else why would you have given me new skin? Did it disturb you so to see me as I truly am, touched by ice?"

Loki was yelling now, and a snow flurry had begun to whirl around him. _That's odd,_ he thought offhandedly. _I've never done that before. _He raised his arms up to shoulder height, and bared his teeth at the Allfather as he began to change his form. He felt the prickle at the base of his spine as his skin darkened to hues of deep blue, interrupted by ridges the colour of hoarfrost. His clothes sloughed off his body until he was laid bare before Odin, his Jotun form radiating icy menace.

"Do you see me, father? Do you see the monster?"

But Odin's stare was locked on Loki's arm, his lone eye narrowing into an inscrutable slit. "What is _that?"_ he demanded in a quiet voice that was infinitely more terrifying than even his loudest battle cry. Loki followed his gaze and found himself looking down at the cuff that encircled his bicep, with Elsa's token set in the middle. He instinctively angled his body away from Odin, trying too late to conceal the item from him. _You must always keep it hidden…_

"Where did you get that?" Odin asked again, his tone bordering on dangerous.

Loki backed away, the squall intensifying around him, acting as a shield, for all the good it would do against Odin's wrath. As the Allfather began to descend the steps, the first of the snowflakes landed on his skin. Loki looked down at his hand where it had made contact, and was startled to see a streak of crimson running down his finger. More of the crystals landed on him, burying themselves in his hair and melting against his skin. When one settled on his lips, he almost gagged on the coppery taste of blood.

It came in torrents after that, the snowflakes whirling red around him, streaming down his face in hot, smothering gushes. He slipped backwards on the treacherously slippery floor and cracked his head as he fell. _Like rose petals,_ he thought absently as the blood rained down around him. As he began to lose his grip on consciousness, Loki heard a woman's muffled sobs. _"I told you to always keep it hidden from him…"_

* * *

><p>Loki awoke panting, and for half a second was convinced that he was in fact covered in blood, before realising that he was just slick with perspiration. He summoned a ball of flame and set it hovering over the bed. It cast a ghoulish light across the draperies, but the presence of light was an undeniable comfort. He swung his legs out of bed just for the benefit of feeling something solid beneath his feet. The cold was a welcome shock as he threw the coverlets back and pressed his soles against the ice. It served well to clear his head, for his dream had left him quite out of sorts.<p>

Loki's dreams usually evolved from one truth or another that he was pondering at the time, but he could not help feeling that this one in particular was meant to _reveal_ a truth to him. After many long minutes replaying the events of his dream, Loki was struck by a sudden realisation.

Until Odin's untoward reaction to the sight of Elsa's token, Loki had not realised the implication behind Frigga's words. When his mother had given the cuff to him three years ago, she had warned Loki that it must be kept secret. Loki had not understood the necessity for secrecy over a mere piece of jewellery, but had not questioned his mother on the matter. It was her gift to him, and her conditions, also. Privately, Loki had liked to think it was because she had bought him something and not Thor. Now, though, he finally understood. She had not _only _warned to keep it hidden, but to keep it hidden from _him._

_From Odin, _Loki realised. He felt slightly breathless. Elsa had said that Frigga was the one who introduced the two of them in the first place; it stood to reason that she would know about the tokens. If Odin really had been the one to alter their memories, Frigga would have gone to any lengths possible to ensure Loki had something of Elsa's to keep close, even if he would not understand the significance of it. _She would always hold onto the hope that one day we would find each other again._

The thought might have been enough to bring tears to his eyes, but, as it was, Loki's balled fists were shaking with barely quelled rage towards the man he had called father for so many years. The betrayal he felt now was a keen sting, matched only by the pain he had felt when his heritage was revealed to him in the Weapons Vault. _By Odin, _his helpful voice added.

Loki marvelled at the bitter irony that in his whole life, the only true pain he had felt had been at the hands of the only father figure he had ever known. The cruelty of that fact was astounding, and tears sprang to his eyes again, for quite the opposite reason this time. He blinked them back furiously. _I will not weep for Odin's sake._

And then Loki realised something. He had been denied years of happiness because of Odin, in more ways than Loki cared to contemplate. Because of Odin's lies, he had been a stranger in his own skin and in his own realm his entire life. Because of those same deceptions, Loki had been raised to believe himself an equal, which only made the realisation of his inferiority all the more crushing. Because of the Allfather's conviction that he always knew the best path to take, he had denied Loki the benefit of the acquaintance that could have made all the difference in him finding peace with his true nature when it finally was revealed to him.

_But no more,_ he thought with bittersweet determination. He rose to his feet, only pausing to pull a shirt on and tuck it loosely into his breeches before shouldering his way out the door. Though he strode with purpose, inside his mind was a tumult of nerves; he really had no idea how these things worked.

He didn't wait for Elsa to answer his knock before stepping through the door, as he felt sure that she would not be asleep. As he expected, she was standing on her balcony looking down into the valley in much the same way he had found her on his first night under her roof. At the sound of his entry, she turned, skirts swishing elegantly around her ankles.

They regarded each other in silence for a moment, Elsa's worry writ plainly on her face. Loki studied her from head to toe, drinking in her beauty. She stood in a pool of silver moonlight and seemed positively ethereal to his eyes. He did not spend long admiring her, however. Elsa shifted under his gaze and opened her mouth as if to speak.

In a heartbeat, Loki closed the distance between them and took her face in his hands. Elsa just had time to gasp before his mouth closed over hers, stealing the breath from her entirely. Her arms moved to encircle him and draw him closer, fingers twining into the fabric of his shirt. Loki's mouth moved against hers, slowly easing her lips apart. Just as his hands were beginning to drift down Elsa's frame, Loki broke off the kiss with a sharp inhale of breath.

Elsa looked up him wide-eyed, wondering if she'd done something wrong. She was as inexperienced as he was, after all. But Loki's eyes were bright with fervour, and a smile was spreading across his flushed features.

"I remember," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.

Elsa almost laughed, but the sound caught in her throat and turned into a sob. Loki tipped her chin up and claimed her lips again, more gently this time, but with no less feeling. It was Elsa who took it further, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair and press his face harder against hers. He smiled against her mouth, amused by her insistence, but complied nonetheless.

Some part of him registered the throb making its way up his spine as his skin reverted to its natural state, as well as the snowflakes settling in their hair and on their shoulders.

_Ice and snow,_ he thought. _Perhaps this is where I belong._

* * *

><p><strong><em>A Beautiful Lie - <em>**_Thirty Seconds to Mars_

**_Silent Storm -_**_ Carl Espen_


	10. Chapter 10

Elsa and Loki were still wrapped in each other's embrace some time later, nothing existing for either of them except the other. No words were spoken, but the silence was not heavy and burdened like so many that had come before it. Yes, there were feelings left unvoiced, but they did not need to be expressed in words. For the moment, at least, it was enough that Elsa's head was against Loki's chest, her arms locked around his waist. On his part, all that needed expressing was communicated in the protective way his arm circled her shoulders and the occasional brush of his lips against the crest of her head.

They both lost track of time as they stood there together, floating like feathers on a sea of contentedness. It was something neither of them had felt in a very long time, and in that moment they were both happy to simply _be_.

They would likely never know just how similar their trains of thought were in that moment. Elsa was remembering her time at Arendelle; the isolation she had felt even at her coronation when the gates had been opened and hoards of people flooded into the city. For her, even then some part of her had been shut away in that room, surrounded by looming ice crystals of her own making. For years all she had recognised within herself was the potential for destruction, and all she knew was the exhausting back-and-forth between all-consuming terror and detached, barren emptiness.

Not for a moment had she considered there might be something within her to warrant anyone caring for her in a romantic capacity. The marriage offers she received on that day had been, she knew, of a practical nature, nothing more.

_I should accept one of them_, she remembered thinking. _It is what a true queen would do_.

Yet something had stopped her. An instinct, perhaps. Nevertheless, she had been exiled, and even the smallest, most fragile glimmer of hope she had harboured of ever being happy had been dashed. The only thing that had sustained her in the time since was the knowledge that back in Arendelle, Anna had found love. Elsa had accepted - with more resigned sorrow than bitterness - that such a fate was not for her.

But then Loki had arrived. At first she had mistrusted him, to be sure. Yet from the start she had felt _something_, and now, pressed up against him, breathing in his scent and recalling the feeling of his lips against hers, she could not remember ever feeling so secure. Some part of her still wanted to conceal her feelings, to choose not to feel them in the fist place, because to feel meant to open herself up to the bad as well as the good, and the bad terrified Elsa.

She squeezed her eyes shut against her doubts; Loki was here, and he was firm and warm, and that was all that mattered. As if to anchor herself solely to these comforting thoughts, she tightened her arms a little around Loki's waist. He manoeuvred her in his arms so that she was facing into him and, sensing his gaze on her, Elsa tilted her head up to look at him.

Sure enough, he was staring at her, his eyes intense and unreadable, an expression she was quickly beginning to associate with Loki. Then, without warning, he dipped his head and kissed her.

_Another thing he seems to be particularly good at, _Elsa thought. _Unpredictable displays of affection._

She didn't mind, though, and after a split second of surprise she sighed and gave in to the kiss. She reached up to cup Loki's neck in her hand and leaned into him, taking solace in the way their bodies seemed to meld together. Loki's fingers trailed down her back until his hands settled on her waist, leaving rivulets of warmth in their wake. Elsa could almost feel her worries fragmenting and dissipating, like snowflakes in the wind, and when they broke apart she drank in the sight of him.

His head was still lowered, his eyes still closed. A lock of ebony hair fell across his forehead and his lips were parted slightly, his breath misting in the space between them. Elsa marvelled at how familiar she had become with the contours of his face in just a few days. Of course, she had known him before, but hardly for a long time and they had both been teenagers; Loki had matured a great deal since then.

It occurred to Elsa then the possibility that their time together would be transient. However it had happened and for whatever reason, they had been kept apart before. Who was to say the same thing wouldn't happen again? Elsa wasn't sure she could bear any more loss. She had lost her sister, her home, her independence, her memories... She had managed to reclaim the latter, but at what cost? She had found Loki again despite the odds, but what would happen to them now? Surely whoever had gone to such lengths to separate them once would not hesitate to do the same - or worse - again.

It was a terrible thought, and when Loki opened his eyes, the shock of green was enough to make Elsa's chest tighten. She kissed him again, more forcefully, trying to drive away the dark thoughts that hounded her.

_I won't lose him again_, she insisted. But his touch was so gentle, so ardent, and the notion that she might be forced to erase all recollection of such contact was so heart-rending that her eyes welled up and a single burning tear spilled down her cheek.

Loki pulled back, concern etched in the lines of his face. The thumb that rested on her cheek brushed the tear away with painstaking care.

"What's wrong?" he murmured. "Have I upset you?"

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut, frustrated that she had let her emotions get away from her. She shook her head. "No, not you, just..." She trailed off, voice thick with barely restrained tears. Loki waited, eyes imploring but perhaps sensing that it was better not to push her. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, steeling herself to look at him without forgetting herself. "What if we get separated again?"

Loki's pressed his mouth into a firm line, and a line appeared between his eyes as he drew his brows together. "I won't let that happen," he insisted.

Elsa smiled sadly. "I'm sure neither of us wanted it to happen the first time, yet evidently we were powerless to stop it."

Loki shook his head. "It'll be different this time. Now we know the stakes and we know that... someone is trying to keep us apart. We'll be careful."

When she averted her eyes, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and made her look at him. He was exceedingly gentle, but Elsa was tractable anyway, secretly wanting the comfort that the sight of him could provide. Their gazes locked once more, hers icy blue with a dewy sheen, his forest green and brimming with tenderness and determination.

"I promise," he said, and Elsa knew that he meant it. He gathered her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin, and Elsa sighed into his chest, the steady sound of his heart against her ear and the feeling of his fingers buried in her hair enough to assuage her worries.

For now, at least.

* * *

><p>For all his apparent self-assuredness, Elsa never would have guessed just how tumultuous Loki's own thoughts were. Just as she was plagued by worries, Loki's own doubts were lurking like shadows in the recesses of his mind.<p>

For the most part, he was wondering how he could possibly deserve to have Elsa there beside him, holding onto him like he was the most important thing in the world. He remembered the first time they met now, the wall in his mind having come crashing down after he kissed Elsa. He remembered how different he had been back then, before he had let the anger and bitterness and jealousy consume him; before he had found out who he really was. He could almost understand how that earlier version of himself might have won Elsa's affection... but now? After everything he had done since then? And what a part of him still longed to do?

Of course, he reminded himself, Elsa didn't know about any of that. Somehow he had managed to skirt around the topic of his more recent exploits, and even now could not bring himself to raise the subject.

_Would she still feel this way if she knew?_ he wondered.

At this moment in time, he knew where he stood, and where Elsa's affections lay. This thing, this... _romance_ that had grown between them was safe, sheltered like a songbird cupped between palms, and Loki was not brave enough to risk startling it into flight.

A hopeful part of him insisted she would understand, that she was too kind-hearted to be fickle. However over the years this aspect of his personality had become dwarfed by a darker side, and the latter part won out. It scoffed at such fanciful thinking.

_Don't be ridiculous,_ it sneered. _She'd turn her back on you in an instant. You are a scourge, a blight on her innocence._

He gritted his teeth, pondered that for a moment. Perhaps it was true; maybe he should leave her. The gods knew she deserved better than the likes of him. But then her arms squeezed his middle, cautious but trusting. It was an almost imperceptible change of pressure, but Loki felt it down to his core. His doubts melted away and he squeezed her back, manoeuvring so that she shifted in his arms, turned to face him.

Her eyes had been closed, but she opened them now and he lost himself in their brilliance. They shone like stars with the silver light of the moon reflected in them. _Gods, she's beautiful,_ he thought and, unable to help himself, he kissed her.

Her mouth was soft and yielding and she sighed as he pressed his lips to hers, as though she had been waiting for the contact. They fit together like puzzle pieces, her arms reaching upwards, his sliding downwards, fingers alive with frissons of electricity. Elsa's fingers gripped the back of his neck and the pressure, both tender and insistent, left him breathless and wanting more, more, _more,_ so much so that when they broke apart he just stood still, eyes closed, trying to regulate his breathing and his racing heart.

After a few moments he opened his eyes and was submerged once more in the overwhelming sight of _her_. He could hardly bear being so close to her and not being able to feel her breath ghost over his lips. Before he could close the unbearable gap between them, however, Elsa raised herself on her toes and captured his mouth with hers. The fervency with which she kissed him was startling and though Loki appreciated it, he couldn't help but think something was wrong and so he did not return the kiss with equal passion, but went softly, reaching up to cup her face in his hand.

As his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, he was shocked again by the hot tear that rolled over his thumb. He pulled back, concerned.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately. "Have I upset you?"

His chest seized in trepidation. Was she having second thoughts? Did she regret opening herself up to him? Relief surged through him so suddenly when she shook her head that he half feared his knees would give out.

_Gods,_ he thought absently. _How have I become so dependent on her so quickly? She has utterly bewitched me._

"No, not you, just..." she lapsed back into silence and Loki waited patiently, the abatement of his rather selfish worries now tempered with worry for Elsa once more. "What if we get separated again?" she asked, voice small and scared.

Several things flooded through Loki at once. Amazement, as he was again reminded that she was as dependent on him as he was on her; anger, because he knew who had separated them but not why - not that the why mattered, for there could be no justifiable reason to have deprived Loki of all these feelings for so many years - and he hated the man for it; and, strangely, an underlying sense of certainty. He was determined that he and Elsa should be together, felt that it simply _had_ to be so.

As such, when he replied, "I won't let that happen," he truly meant it.

"I'm sure neither of us wanted it to happen the first time, yet evidently we were powerless to stop it." Elsa's small smile pained him, but her words did not shake him.

His frown deepened and he shook his head; he couldn't afford to give in to doubt. "It'll be different this time. Now we know the stakes and we know that... someone is trying to keep us apart. We'll be careful."

He had almost said 'Odin', but had decided against it at the last second. That was a serious matter that would take some time to explain and Loki did not want to deepen Elsa's distress just now. It would also mean putting some distance between the two of them, and the thought was just shy of offensive to Loki at this time.

Elsa looked away, but he pulled her face back towards his. He needed her to see the raw truth in his eyes when he spoke the next two words.

"I promise," Loki said, and he knew she believed him.

_That's enough words for now, _Loki decided. He drew Elsa into his chest and held her there, inhaling the scent of her hair and vowing a second time - this time silently - that as long as there was life in his body, he would find a way for them to be together. The thought was potent enough that it eclipsed all his previous apprehensions.

For now, at least.

* * *

><p><em>There are no words that can accurately express how sorry I am for my absence. Several things have prevented me from dedicating sufficient time to writing recently, first and foremost a horrendously busy school year that has taken precedent over, well... everything. Consequently I've had very little time to spare for writing and anything I did write I was unhappy with. But, hark, the summer holidays are almost upon us and though my teachers are still loading me up with work (f***ing fascists), the updates will become much more frequent now.<em>

_I want to say how thankful I am to everyone who has stuck with this story and continued reading and reviewing. I wouldn't have been anywhere near as motivated to pick up this story again without all your enthusiasm and encouragement. A special thank you goes out to Skywroe whose kind messages made me determined to get back to writing ASAP. __I wish I could have got back to it sooner, but hopefully you can all forgive me. _

_Anyway enough of that, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! My musical inspiration this time around was "As Long As You're Mine" from Wicked. It's literally so perfect for this chapter! I can't explain, just go listen to it if you haven't already - you'll understand._


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